^M 



f>^ 



? 







^ 







i« 



^ 



)j 



^ 



B I D DY 



^W^^^f^^^h^?^^ 




^.^•i^ 



i 








Book L^..^ 

CflwiiglrtN" L 



COPYRiGlIT DEPOSIT, 



CAMPING 



By 



Known in Real Life as 

ALEXANDRA G. LOCKWINE, R. N. 



Illustratgd, Arranged and Printed by 
THE ADVERTISERS PRINTING CO. 

133 West 24th Street, New York 



c- 



/ ^ 



Copyrighted by 
Alexandra G. Lockwine 

1911 



4^' 



OlA28di)74 






Contents! 



CHAPTER PAGE 

I. Getting Ready . 9 

11. Leaving the City .o. 21 

III. On the Way to Camp 31 

IV. First Day at Camp 37 

V. Routine 53 

VI. Afternoon Sports 65 

VII, Evening Games, „ , » . 73 

VIII. Camping Trips . „ « 85 

IX. Odds and Ends, Including 

Prayers 97 

X. Football 107 

XL Boating........ 115 

XII. Final Contests, Track Work 127 

XIII. Visitors . . 139 

XIV. Last Days 151 

XV. Av^rarding Prizes .... ..... 163 

XVL Leaving Camp 169 



^Metrication 



To Dr. George Alexander Kohut, who 
may not he a good judge of whiskey, hut wJio 
is a Gentleman and a Scholar, one of the 
few Preachers who does as he says, this hook 
is affectionately dedicated hy the author. 

Fthruary 14, 1911 



iforetoorli 



NOWADAYS, whenever we pick up 
a magazine, we read the notices of 
Camps all the way from Maine to 
California, who are in need of Campers, and 
think how very popular camping is becoming, 
when as a matter of fact it is the one and only 
pastime that hasalways retained its popularity. 

We can trace it back to the prehistoric ages; 
see it carved in hieroglyphics on obelisks, find 
upon investigation that North, South, East 
or West, the tribes of Red, Black, Yellow 
and White, have gloried in living in tents, so 
is it any wonder that mankind still loves it ? 

This thin veneer of civilization which makes 
us desire to shut ourself in structures of brick 
and wood is only skin deep. Right under 
the surface the love for the open prevails so 
strongly, that every little while a man who 
has been brought up according to our stand- 
ards breaks loose, takes to the road and lives 
a life of freedom, while the world looking on 
pities him for going down in the scale and 
tries to bring him back from the life his 
nature craves, to one of humdrum existence. 

Then come along with me, please, do, for 
just one summer in Camp and you will say at 
the end of the season that you can squeeze 
more fun into a canvas tent than into all the 
palaces you ever were in. 





.J!!A^'1SS1 



CAMPING 

CHAPTER I. 

Getting Ready. 

With the catalog and prospectus in 
front of you, making delightful little 
shivers run up and down your spine, you 
begin marking down, first, the articles 
you must have ; then the things you hope 
your fond relatives will give you; then 
the clothes and athletic goods without 
which any boy with true camping spirit 
cannot get along. 

Your father, who secretly expects to 
come out to Camp and use some of your 
cherished sweaters, running pants, 
swimming trunks, etc., etc., suggests 
that you get extra large sizes, to allow 
for shrinkage. You protest, telling him 
that you don't want your clothes to look 
9 



CAMPING. 



like "hand-me-downs," that you had in- 
herited from your big brother. 

After many heart-breaking wrenches, 
during which you feel as though even 
death itself were preferable to giving up 
all the articles you have chosen, you ef- 
fect a compromise by saying you will be 
satisfied with one fishing rod, six pairs 
of running pants, several pairs of sneak- 
ers, lots of sweaters, a complete outfit 
of oilskins, tennis racket, baseball bat, 
balls, and Oh! what a good boy you 
would be, if you could have a canoe. 

You would study all winter, not want 
to stay up late, cross your heart to leave 
cigarettes and trashy novels alone, but, 
gee whiz! only to be the owner of a 
canoe. You even appeal to your father, 
who weighs in the neighborhood of 200 
pounds, and try to make him see the fun 
of going out with you. Suppose you 
10 



CAMPING. 



were upset? What of it? You can 
both swim. 

Mother, dear, puts a quick veto on 
that. No canoe for you at any price. 
In fact, owing to her nervous system 
being in need of recuperation, she thinks 
the bath tub the best place to swim in, 
and deplores the risks one must take in 
order to be athletic. 

The *House' having vetoed the canoe 
question, you offer another little bill, 
asking for an appropriation for a shot- 
gun, or at least one of those dandy little 
air rifles, so you can shoot at targets and 
the farmers' cows and chickens. 

Before you can be heard the *House' 
vetoes that, too. Danger signals are 
displayed, and you feel as though you 
were treading on a third rail. 

The Tlouse' suggests that you should 
spend the summer with her, taking 
II 



CAMPING. 



views with your Kodak, walking miles 
every day and playing ping pong and 
lotto every evening, thus getting a nice 
quiet rest to prepare you for a long win- 
ter's study. 

In the deepest despair you clutch your 
father's hand. He gives you a sympa- 
thetic squeeze in return. Say, is there 
anything on the face of this earth like 
the loving freemasonry between a sporty 
parent and his little son? 

Not to agitate matters any more and 
change the subject, you ask how much 
pocket money you are to be allowed per 
week. The 'House' again rises to object, 
claiming that, as there are no car fares 
to be paid or soda fountains to tempt, 
you cannot have any possible use for 
money. You will be furnished with 
plenty of paper and stamped envelopes 
and sundries, thus for once relieving you 
of the strain of handling money. 

12 



CAMPING. 



Well, whoever heard of a right little, 
tight little boy who objected to the jin- 
gle of loose change in his pants pockets? 
"If such there be, go mark him well," 
for he surely will need watching. 

From data you have gathered, you in- 
form the *House' that a camel with three 
stomachs isn't in it with a hungry boy 
at Camp ; that your special friends. Jack, 
Ed. and Fatty, all spend their weekly 
money, and that nothing but the fear of 
being punished keeps them from gnaw- 
ing the canvas tents. They live in the 
open all the time and are constantly 
hungry. 

Just about the time when one feels 
that hunger laughs at locksmiths, the 
ice cream and cake man drives in. If 
you have ever in your travels seen a 
horde of hungry little piglings swarm 
all over a trough you can form some idea 
of what those boys do to that wagon. 
13 



CAMPING. 



The boys are simply starving for ice 
cream and cake. One plate is only an 
introduction; with the second one you 
begin to distinguish the flavor; it really 
needs a third one to put that sweet icy 
feeling in your stomach so earnestly de- 
sired by the growing youth. The next 
day, or maybe next but one, our friend 
the fruit man calls. All your life you 
have been told of the value of fruit. 
Your system at this time craves lots of 
it. It is very good for you. Oh! yes, 
certainly! but it has to be paid for from 
some of that pocket money. All this 
and more you tell them, being careful 
to cross your t's and dot your i's for 
fear of the ^House's' objections. 

Father and mother decide to consult 
together. You see the moment has ar- 
rived, when you will gain more by say- 
ing less, so you kiss them good-night 
and "stand not upon the order of your 
going." 



CAMPING. 



Upstairs you fall into a brown study. 
With your clothes half off, you think of 
the fun you will have; perhaps of the 
medals you will win, and there creeps 
just a little undercurrent of sadness 
through you at the thought of parting 
from your devoted parents. "Ah, me! 
I kind of hate to leave mother," you 
think, then console yourself that they 
will be coming up to see you. About 
this time your day dream ends suddenly, 
for they are coming upstairs. Out goes 
the light. Into bed you jump. Are 
asleep in the twinkling of an eye, to 
dream that you are at Camp, enjoying 
all the fun and frolic there. 

The minute you open your eyes in the 
morning you read the catalog from be- 
ginning to end, look at the pictures, try 
to fancy yourself posing as the champion 
high diver, jumper and tennis player, 
and forget to brush your teeth, in your 
15 



CAMPING. 



hurry to get to school, where you can 
consult with your chums. 

Not one sporting goods window can 
you pass without a curious glance. In 
fact, dear boy, you are in such a maze 
that when the teacher asks you to tell 
him how you would start for the North 
Pole you answer promptly: **From the 
Grand Central Station, on the Bar Har- 
bor Express," and, for the life of you, 
cannot see why the class roars at you. 

Some weeks never seem to come to an 
end, and this, the very longest week of 
your life, just crawls away. Saturday 
your fond father has promised to go 
with you and purchase the athletic 
goods, while mother attends to the rest. 

You want to know where he is going 
to buy them and what he is going to get. 
Are told to come along and not fuss any 
more. If there is any smell on the face 
of this earth that smells nicer than new 
i6 



CAMPING. 



leather in an athletic goods shop, I want 
to smell it. Oh, me! Oh, my! what 
beauties, and you have to bite your 
tongue to keep from interrupting. 

Business has been very good with 
father, and he, thinking back over his 
own boyhood, when money was as 
scarce as hens' teeth, makes up his mind 
to fit you out so as to be a credit to your- 
self and him. 

Later in life you may blossom out in 
a Prince Albert and silk hat, a dinner or 
full dress suit, but never, as long as you 
live, will clothes ever give you the un- 
alloyed pleasure that these camping togs 
do in your first year at Camp. 

As a rule, you are not over and above 
fond of carrying bundles. The cook can 
vouch for that. How much bribery she 
had to practice to make you bring home 
quickly a bottle of milk or of water or a 
bunch of soup greens. But now you 
17 



CAMPING. 



are perfectly willing to carry everything 
from sneakers to caps, and can hardly 
trust the salesman to send them home. 

In the privacy of your room you strip 
off your clothes in a jiffy, for the joy of 
trying on the different sweaters, run- 
ning pants and swimming trunks. In 
your baseball clothes you pose, in fancy, 
almost a miniature Mathewson; try a 
high dive from the bureau to the bed; 
do a hurdle over the towel rack. Noth- 
ing but the fear of breaking the furni- 
ture stops you in your wild gambols. 

Another peep at the catalog to see if 
you have everything you need ; a fervent 
hope that you may make good, and bring 
home with you in the fall a silver cup or 
trophy. Then, carefully folding each 
and every garment with almost reverent 
care, you vow to keep your trunk in or- 
der. If any one should mention the fact 
to you, you would be indignant at the 
i8 



CAMPING. 



idea of not caring a jot at the end of the 
season whether you collected your be- 
longings or left them lying around loose. 

Among the gifts you have thus far 
received are a compass, a kodak and a 
housewife filled with thread, needles, 
buttons, etc. There does not seem to 
be one thing wanting to make life one 
long, sweet song unless it is the canoe 
which you hope for next year. All 
through life that one little thing which 
would make us perfectly happy, if we 
had it, and yet the perfect happiness is 
not for mortals. Truly, the poet knew 
what he was talking about when he said, 

"Not enjoyment, and not sorrow. 
Is our destined end or way ; 

But to act, that each to-morrow 
Find us farther than to-day." 



19 



CHAPTER II. 

Leaving the City. 

A few days before we leave for Camp 
all the boys, new and old, are invited to 
meet at the home of the Director to be- 
come acquainted with one another. It 
is called a rally, and truly the boys do 
rally around the Director, whose great- 
est fault is that he loves mankind too 
much, for his idea of Heaven is that it 
is filled with boys alone. One look in 
his face will convince the most skeptical, 
and association for even a brief season 
with him makes a boy feel truer and 
better. 

The principal part of the rally consists 
of partaking bountifully of ice cream, 
cake and lemonade, while exchanging 
yarns with old friends, making new ac- 
quaintances, thinking up new jokes, and 
enjoying the shining hours. The fac- 

21 



CAMPING. 



ulty hobnob with each other, and, tak- 
ing it altogether, it is a delightful after- 
noon, one to be remembered as a red let- 
ter day. 

Even the old Camp nurse calls around, 
to be greeted by both her friends and 
enemies ; to renew her friendship for all, 
mentally picking out new favorites, while 
keeping a warm spot in her heart for 
old boys. There is something in the air 
that starts her off right away using 
camp slanguage, and behaving like one 
of the boys. She just cannot help get- 
ting into the spirit of the thing. All the 
way over to the rally she had told her- 
self that she must act in a dignified way 
becoming to a woman of 80 in the shade, 
then the minute she catches sight of the 
crowd she throws dignity to the winds, 
saying she'll none of it, is ready for a 
tussle with or without gloves, snaps her 
fingers at old Father Time. Let the 
22 



CAMPING. 



sands run down if they must, but until 
the last grain has run, she hopes to be 
with her boys, to tease, to love, to try 
and care for them. If they need a moth- 
er's care, all right; she is there. Are 
they in want of a chum? Well, in a 
pinch she will do. As long as she can 
make them happy in her poor little way, 
what cares she if she does make a goose 
of herself? 

You see that, after all, the keynote of 
life is LOVE. With it, the very poor- 
est home is happy; without it, a palace 
is dreary. So poor old Nursie starts out 
by loving the Director, and right on 
down the line, finding good qualities in 
the worst and tamest boy there. She 
is devoutly thankful for the chance to 
spend some weeks with those who love 
her, despite her years and looks. 

But we must not get mushy. So let's 
travel along and get to the starting 
point, or how shall we ever get there? 
23 



CAMPING. 



The day before we leave New York 
the expressman calls for our trunks, 
bags, etc., which ends our troubles as 
far as they are concerned. We never 
see anything of them until we get to 
Camp, yet they have been on their way 
just the same as we. There they stand 
on the Campus, waiting to be put into the 
tents. They are filled with good things 
to decorate and make these little homes 
look like college rooms. 

The long-looked-for day is here at last. 
A farewell look around to see that we 
have forgotten nothing, we make a sol- 
emn promise to write regularly, to keep 
our teeth clean, not to eat much trash, 
to keep out of danger, not to get wet, 
to mind the Director and faculty; in 
fact, to be good, good, good. 

Compared to the excitement at the 
depot, the Tower of Babel was a peace- 
24 



CAMPING. 



ful village. Of course, it is a fool com- 
parison to compare the anxious parents' 
wanderings to that of a lot of hens who 
have just been decapitated, yet they will 
feel so terribly anxious at the parting 
moment. Every mother wants her boy 
looked after, never mind the rest. The 
boy himself doesn't want to be fussed 
over, and most awfully hates to be pet- 
ted in public. 

Yes, sir! I have known boys who 
would kick at being petted in public, and 
yet were perfectly willing to have some 
one lie down with them at night, telling 
them fairy stories until they were sleepy. 
They never entirely get over that, either, 
only the tables are reversed in later 
years, they being the ones to tell the 
fairy stories. 

The gates are opened; one wild rush 
for the cars ; mothers kissing the wrong 
boys in their excitement; everybody 
25 



CAMPING. 



trying to get away from somebody else, 
the inevitable small boy with fiendish 
cunning letting go of your hand, shouts, 
laughter, tears and prayers, follow us 
as we step aboard the special train re- 
served for our Camp, "Good-bye, dear — 
Be a good boy — Write soon — Clean your 
teeth — Don't poke your head out of the 
window— Tell the Nurse about your 
medicine — Tell the faculty about your 
clothes — Ask the doctor to keep an eye 
on you— Let the Director 'phone me as 
soon as you get there" — these, and a 
thousand and one more questions and 
orders, follow us as we slowly glide out 
of the train shed. 

We soothe the nervous parents, hon- 
estly promising them to look after 
their darlings, send them home with 
sometimes a heavy heart at the thought 
of parting from their children, yet thank- 
ful that they can give them advantages 
26 



CAMPING. 



that they themselves could not always 
have in their youth. There are, of 
course, exceptions; many a father real- 
izes that he has not the knack of training 
his boys and being wise, decides to let 
others do it for him. For what on earth 
is sadder than parent and child who do 
not understand each other, constantly 
pulling at the wrong end of the rope, 
growing farther and farther apart as the 
years go by. 

Before the train is in the tunnel the 
little chaps are peeling off their collars, 
ties and all the clothes they dare, having 
been almost roasted, that hot June even- 
ing, before starting. 

The porter is ordered to make up 
berths at once. You really would think 
they wanted to go to bed. It looks that 
way for a minute, but is only a huge 
bluff. While ample room has been al- 
lowed for all, the rascals prefer getting 
27 



CAMPING. 



into each other's berths. Only the very 
little boys go to sleep before lo or ii 
p. m. Such a glorious time as they have ! 
But even the wildest boy must let 
up some time until his storage batteries 
are recharged. At last quiet prevails, 
and for the next few hours nothing is 
heard but the click of the rails, the 
warning whistle, the brakeman passing 
through the cars with shining lantern, 
one or another of the faculty seeing that 
airs well, our Director himself looking 
out for the comfort of the little ones. 

Biddy herself, on the job, like the old 
woman of nursery rhyme who had so 
many children she didn't know what to 
do, is put down at one end of the car with 
all the littlest ones. These she can 
watch (when she's awake), and gather 
under her wings in case of storm. There 
is no storm, unless one of protest at the 
general racket m.ade. 
28 




J'I^ ^N^ '"^/^i 

^^ '"'1,11"'%. 






'^^.\ 



CHAPTER III. 
On the Way to Camp. 

The night passes at last. With the 
first streak of dayHght boys jump up 
and dress quickly, for we are due at 
Portland a little after 7 a. m. 

Our breakfast has been ordered ahead. 
All we have to do is to eat it, not like the 
famous recipe for cooking a hare; ours 
has been caught, skinned and cooked. 
It seems to fill the bill, for with good 
appetite we fall to, causing even the 
waiters, who are used to almost every- 
thing, to gasp at the way the food disap- 
pears. 

About half an hour is allowed us at 
the station. Then "All aboard" for Ox- 
ford. What a beautiful country we are 
passing through ! The late spring here 
31 



CAMPING. 



makes everything look beautifully ten- 
der and green; rolling country, which, 
after all, is the perfect landscape, passes 
before us. After the heat and dust of 
the city, how cool and refreshing this 
is! Comfortable farm houses, lovely 
orchards, with the trees heavy with 
young fruit, winding streams, songbirds 
on every side, overhead a sky of tender- 
est blue, with here and there a fleck of 
white — even the cattle grazing in the 
fields seem to know that we are coming, 
for they low, and the calves run along 
the inside of the fence seeming to recog- 
nize kindred spirits. Through this most 
beautiful section of country we ride for 
one and one-half hours, stopping at Ox- 
ford. 

Carriages are waiting for the 6-mile 

ride to Camp. We thought Nature in 

her most lavish mood had shown us the 

best she had while we were on the train, 

32 



CAMPING. 



but here were more and more surprises 
in store for us. Were you to take a lit- 
tle of Lake George, mix it with some 
shady lanes in England, add the clear 
atmosphere of the Catskills, sprinkle 
around a few of the prettiest lakes in 
Switzerland, borrow the Italian skies for 
a covering, even then, Maine, in this sec- 
tion, can give the rest of the country 
cards and spades and beat them at that. 

We are really very glad, though, when 
we come in sight of Camp. Even the 
loveliest drive won't satisfy a boy who is 
anxious to get to his tent. Ke wants to 
get out of his city clothes, and into 
Camp attire. What a beautiful scene 
opens before us ! The lake, like a sheet 
of polished silver, rows of tents waiting 
for tenants, the tables already set for 
dinner, all the house help on hand smil- 
ing a welcome, and willing to make 
every one feel quickly at home. 
33 



CAMPING. 



Wagon after wagon drives up and dis- 
charges its load of living freight. They 
climb out any way, over the back, over 
the dashboard, over the wheels, the 
farmers threatening to sue for damages 
for injuries inflicted upon their ancient 
turnouts. 



34 



CHAPTER IV. 

First Day in Camp. 

Before we can locate ourselves the bu- 
gle sounds for mess. Each of the in- 
structors has a certain number of boys 
in his care, so there is not the slightest 
confusion. 

There is not a roof garden or a palm 
room or any other make-believe place for 
eating outdoors in the city that can com- 
pare with this. To eat out-of-doors with 
such air, such views, such food ! Those 
who are hungry pitch right in; those 
with little appetite begin to eat, gaining 
a love for the food as they go along. Sec- 
ond helpings of everything are called for 
and eaten, until at last the waistband 
protests at such pressure being put upon 
it. 

37 



CAMPING. 



As soon as the signal is given to leave 
the table every boy takes quick advan- 
tage of it. We see them, running here 
and there, looking for their bags and 
boxes. For the next few hours they are 
as busy as the proverbial bee. 

Boys, who, when at home, have not 
even as much as taken their changes of 
linen out of the bureau, who since 
infancy have been washed, combed, 
brushed and dressed by fond mothers 
and nurses, here learn for the first time 
what it is to do for themselves. 

It is a joyful revelation to them to find 
out how much they can do. Heretofore 
they have not only been willing to let 
others do for them but have demanded 
it; now, when they need a bath, there is 
no one to prepare it for them, so they 
just go ahead and gather their belong- 
ings together and run down to the lake. 
No shutting of windows and taking a 
38 



CAMPING. 



bath in a torrid temperature, with some 
one handy to rub your back, following 
that with an alcohol rub. I guess not. 
You go into water that sparkles, slop 
around if you cannot swim ; swim around 
if you cannot slop. The water just 
soaks out all the impurities. Then out 
you jump. Sometimes you dry with a 
towel, most of the time the sun dries 
you, and of all the lovely towels on the 
face of this earth the pleasant sunshine, 
woven with gentle breezes, is the one 
and only towel for me. 

In the city a chap just hurries into the 
water, soaps the washrag, debates, if he 
is in a hurry, whether to wash from head 
to foot or just touch the dirty places 
lightly and depend upon the towel to do 
the rest. Sometimes he sits down in the 
tub and doesn't wash at all; just sits 
there, thinking, like a bump on a log, 
39 



CAMPING. 



until he is warned of the flight of time; 
then jumps out again, not half clean. 

But at Camp the joy of going into the 
water is doubled, nay, trebled, by the 
knowledge that you cannot go in when 
you want to, but must wait until the 
proper hour; and this, our first day 
there, is about the middle of the after- 
noon. 

Most of us fancy we can swim well 
until we go into a large body of water. 
There is all the difference in the world 
between making a fast sprint in a tank, 
under cover, with no currents or wind 
or shoaling water to impede one's move- 
ments. That is why so many boys have 
to find out for themselves the difference. 
Many boys who have held records for 
indoor swimming make rather poor 
showing when it comes to long-distance 
swimming in the open. 
40 



CAMPING. 



Our first afternoon at Camp passes 
so quickly that before you can say Jack 
Robinson it is time for supper. We 
have not done one-quarter of the self- 
imposed tasks. How can a fellow do 
much when he just has to stop every few 
seconds to look out of his tent? The 
water allures with its sparkle, the woods 
invite you to come and rest in their 
shade; the Campus begs for your com- 
pany; baseball diamonds plead for just 
one game; tennis courts spread their 
nets to catch the player; basketball 
courts coax with their goals on high; 
the running track dares you to sprint 
just once around. What, with flags 
floating, sun shining, life and animation 
everywhere, is it any wonder that sup- 
per time finds us this day with happi- 
ness in our hearts, trunks upset, tents 
half decorated, letters to parents begun, 
everything started and nothing finished? 
On this, our first day, there is not one 
41 



CAMPING. 



boy in a hundred who could put his share 
of the tent in order. 

Take, for instance, the Kodak fiend. 
How can he bother with such things as 
arranging his toilet articles, when the 
sun is just right for snapping a few 
views? He surely can put his share in 
order when the shadows begin to fall. 
He uses up a roll of films without much 
result, because in his hurry to snapshot 
the entire country in one afternoon he 
makes mistakes. Later on he will dis- 
criminate, to his advantage, and by the 
end of the season show some pictures 
worth while. 

Then there is the boy who has brought 
his musical instrument along to Camp. 
No matter whether it is a mandolin or a 
guitar, a violin or a drum, a banjo or 
jewsharp, it is an instrument, isn't it? 
sometimes of pleasure, most of the time 
of torture to the sensitive nerves, still 
42 



CAMPING. 



with the best of intentions he tightens 
the keys, looks up at the ridge pole for 
inspiration and lets her go. He may 
play some selection from Beethoven or 
Chopin in a way to touch one's heart, 
causing work to cease while he plays. 
Then again it may be ragtime played out 
of time and tune, making one's fingers 
itch to slap him and destroy his musical 
instrument; but, no matter what it is, 
it is done for pleasure, and is accepted as 
such by his admiring tentmates. 

So much for art and music. Then 
there is the boy who is anxious to start 
a game. That chap is to be really pitied. 
No matter how many times he puts the 
bat in the corner of his tent it has a 
sneaking way of rolling back again to 
his feet. Could it speak, it would prob- 
ably, in a wooden sort of voice, ask what 
he had brought it along for. No bat 
with a bit of self-respecting feeling in 
43 



CAMPING. 



its wooden heart likes to look new. It 
feels that its chief charm is to be useful 
more than ornamental, and if you are at 
all doubtful about the sympathetic feel- 
ing between a baseball bat and a good 
player, then just go to any one of the 
good games and watch the batters. 

Many a time have I been amused at their 
antics. They take up an apparently re- 
spectable old bat, swing it around, feel 
its weight, hit the ground with it, and 
just when you think that the bat in self- 
defense will swat them one they throw 
it down in disgust. The bat often rolls 
back again, asking for another trial. Has 
it not been created for just this kind of 
work? Then what right has a man to 
throw it down without a trial? 

To an outsider there seems to be mad- 
ness in their methods. Yet it may be 
the reverse, just as some people are cre- 
ated for one special line of v^ork, so may 
44 



CAMPING. 



even a piece of wood be better fitted to 
form a plank that stays in one place, 
while another piece of wood has so much 
life in it, whether you will or not, if 
you use that particular bat you are 
bound to win. 

But for all-round madness, commend 
me to the tennis player. He is hopeless 
from the start, and all he knows about 
love is what he wins in the game. They 
will go without meals, play at all hours, 
and are as greedy as can be about hold- 
ing on to courts. Yet tennis could be 
made a sentimental game. What with 
its couples, playing for love and courts, 
and nets, Cupid himself might take a 
hand in arranging the matches. 

Well, the tennis fiend goes out, 
whether it is hot or cold, that first after- 
noon, finds a partner, runs, jumps and 
leaps all afternoon after two little white 
45 



CAMPING. 



balls, with never a care as to whether 
his share of the tent is in order or not. 

That is baseball and tennis for you, 
gentle reader. 

Next, on this our first day, there is the 
boy who wants a boat and the boy who 
wants a swim. 

No wonder poets have made verses 
about boating since time first was. Talk 
about the poetry of motion! To lie in 
the bottom of a roomy boat on a still 
lake on a sunny afternoon, the water 
lapping the sides in a gentle, soothing 
way, making us think of our mothers 
when they held us on their laps, just 
rocking so slowly and easily that we 
felt as if we cuddled up to her, her arms 
tight around us (as though to ward off 
all evil), and our head leaning on her 
breast, that heaven itself could offer 
nothing sweeter than this — indeed, if 
46 



CAMPING. 



one had one's choice between being a 
little cherub a la Raphael, with cunning 
wings growing out of his shoulder 
blades, or just sitting on mother's lap 
and being loved, I rather think heaven 
would be short of cherubs, while every 
mother's lap would be filled. 

Then why call a boy lazy who likes to 
lie idly in a boat, with his face turned 
up to the blue heavens? He probably 
is planning wonderful things to do when 
he grows up ; in the meantime feeling an 
echo of the past, stirring his inmost be- 
ing. 

But of all the villains, the boy who 
wants a swim is the worst. He will do 
you the honor to ask for it, and is per- 
fectly happy if you grant permission. 
He is evidently descended from some 
one of the orig^inal fishes who went into 
Noah's Ark. His nature craves water. 
47 



CAMPING. 



Long living on shore has rid his skin 
of any scaly look, but the fish blood is 
there just the same. He can dive to the 
bottom of the pool and stay there look- 
ing up at you with glassy eyes, for all 
the world like a sulky trout. When he 
leaps in the water you are reminded of 
a porpoise splashing through the foam 
at the vessel's bov/. Again cutting 
through the water, half-submerged, how 
like a shark chasing its prey, this may 
consist of some harmless old female, 
who is gently ambling along. The first 
thing she knows some monster of the 
deep has grabbed her by the leg and is 
dragging her under water. She shrieks 
as in her struggles she fancies some 
dread sea monster is taking her to its 
lair. With almost superhuman effort 
she breaks loose, when the monster 
arises to laugh at her fright. It is the 
born swimmer, the descendant of pre- 
historic fishes, and the worst punish- 
48 



CAMPING. 



ment you can give him is to keep him 
out of the water. 

So much for the boatman and swim- 
mer. By supper time most of the boys 
have laid the foundation for an elegant 
coat of tan, some will be badly sunburnt 
by to-morrow, for Old Sol dearly loves 
to scorch the tender skin of the city 
youth. It is useless to warn them about 
stripping all their clothes off too soon. 
How are they going to get a good coat 
of tan on by the end of the season if they 
don't begin right away? The only thing 
to do is to put plenty of oil on, and if 
**pain still treads on the heels of pleas- 
ure" they will learn the wisdom of mak- 
ing haste slowly. 

We have a delightful supper. All of 
the boys do ample justice to it. After- 
wards they lounge around for a short 
period, when again the bugle blows 
"Quarters." 

49 



CAMPING. 



Getting undressed in a tent with three 
other boys is lots of fun. There is no 
clothes closet to hang your clothes in, 
just a line made of rope or wire stretched 
across that serves as a clothes horse. 
The night is cool, and both front and 
back flaps of the tent are wide open to 
the breezes. Just half an hour is al- 
lowed to prepare for bed. Then the 
bugler sounds "Taps," the most beauti- 
ful call of all. Lights go out and silence 
reigns. Here and there laughter may 
be heard, but the majority of the boys 
are so tired that their heads have hardly 
touched the pillows before they are 
asleep, after one of the longest and hap- 
piest days of their lives. 



50 




r^^S^f-^ 



CHAPTER V. 
Routine. 

Bright and early the next morning 
the bugler sounds reveille. Every one 
jumps out of bed, although a few have 
already been up since daylight, so eager 
are they to be real Campers. 

As soon as every one is out of bed the 
setting up exercises take place. For 
fifteen minutes the boys, under the lead- 
ership of the instructors, go through a 
course of calisthenics, after which they 
go down to the water for a scrub and 
plunge, brush their teeth and get their 
clothes on. By that time the bugle calls 
to them to get into line, ready to march 
to the table for breakfast. 

All who are not on line-in will find 
themselves marching round the Cam- 
53 



CAMPING. 



pus, which is a block square, several 
times. Good exercise for them, at the 
same time teaching them the truth about 
"Time and tide waiting for no man." 

Another good meal awaits us, plenty 
of good, substantial food, that will put 
strength into us and at the same time 
tickle our palate. 

After breakfast we find that it is not 
all play at Camp. Some are inclined to 
loaf ; some would like to wander around ; 
others, with some definite object in view, 
plan to go out for practice runs or 
games. But, hold on, noble youths, you 
have slept in your beds, have you not? 
Well, like Mr. Squeers' method, we will 
ask you to spell "bed," then go and make 
it up. Also you have upset your tents. 
Again, you are given gracious permis- 
sion to tidy them also. 

Here we have no willing mothers, no 
handy chambermaids, to put everything 
54 



CAMPING. 



in apple-pie order. This is truly Camp, 
and you are simply soldiers Camping. 

The Director may have an orderly to 
do his work, but, as for the rest of the 
Campers, it is every man for himself, 
from the instructors down to the small- 
est boy. Each and every one must do 
his share. Beds are made, tents swept 
out, clothes hung up, and when the bu- 
gle again calls "Inspection" each and 
every boy must be at his tent. 

The Director, accompanied by his 
staff, inspects, marking for and against 
each tent. Accordingly, there is keen 
competition between the boys to see who 
has the most orderly tent for the season. 
Prizes are awarded to the tent that has 
the best record. All this conduces to 
neat habits, and lets the boys see there 
is more to be gained by doing the right 
than the wrong thing. 
55 



CAMPING. 



Again the bugle calls for "Assembly." 
This is one of the most interesting 
events of the day. Here we can all sit 
under the shade of beautiful trees and 
listen to the orders being given out ; the 
schedule of the games to be played; the 
list of those to be punished for breaking 
the rules, etc., etc. On this occasion the 
bad boy, knowing full well that he has 
been marked for punishment and is go- 
ing to get it anyway, does a little more 
to amuse his friends while he annoys 
those in ofBce. 

As soon as the orders are given the 
boys are dismissed, some to go on the 
field for a game of tennis, others for 
baseball, others for walking trips. For 
the little boys there is tether ball and the 
junior baseball diamond. In fact, what- 
ever is for the big boys is good for his 
little brothers, excepting football. 
56 



CAMPING. 



In the midst of the fun we hear the 
bugle again. That is the swimming 
call; so hurry with your bats, tennis 
rackets and any other thing you may 
be doing at this particular moment. Get 
your swimming trunks and rush down 
to the dock. 

Now for fun. Those who can swim, 
how gracefully they dive in, swim un- 
der water, and just when your heart is 
in your mouth for fear they are drowned 
up they come in the opposite direction. 

The boys who are not very good 
swimmers make up for skill by lots of 
splashing about in the shallow water. 
They duck each other, try to float, and 
act for all the world like a school of 
young porpoises. I myself like to go 
out with them. They take me for a 
friendly old mother whale and climb all 
over me, never so happy as when they 
get me down under the water. Then 
57 



CAMPING. 



sometimes I take a large, roomy boat, 
invite them in and pole them around the 
lake to their enjoyment and my own, 
too. 

But this chapter tells of routine, so 
we must obey the whistle when it blows. 
That means all out, and any one caught 
in after that is kept out for two or three 
times — about the worst kind of punish- 
ment you could give a boy. 

Fortunately, the boys have very little 
dressing to do, a pair of running pants 
and a pair of sneakers being considered 
full dress. Long before the bugle tells 
them to form in line they are ready and 
hungry. 

This ends the morning. We have 
been warned to write home to parents, 
but the study period after dinner is the 
time appointed for that. After a boun- 
tiful dinner we see them prepared to 
58 



CAMPING. 



write. The big boy will write willingly 
to some of his folks and loves to write 
to the girls. He does not have to be 
reminded that Wednesday and Sunday 
are letter writing days. The middle 
sized chap needs a little urging, but the 
little bear is the one who forgets. He 
may be so homesick that you dare hard- 
ly speak to him on that subject, yet he 
has to be forced to write regularly. 

There are exceptions, of course. Take 
little Jimsey, for instance, whom I found 
crying. The minute I looked at him I 
knew right away what kind of malady 
he was afflicted with. Says I to him: 
"Jimsey, old boy, have you written home 
to your family yet?" "No," he an- 
swered, "I don't know how to spell all 
the words right. You see, I have never 
been away from home before and never 
had to write letters to my mother." "Oh, 
if that's all that ails you, I am the boss 
59 



CAMPING. 



letter writer. So, come along with me, 
young man, and you can dictate and I 
will write." "Can I do that?" he want- 
ed to know. "Of course you can. The 
Director will say it is all right." And 
this is what Jimsey wrote to his mother, 
at least he dictated and I wrote it : 

"Dear Mother, Darling: 

"We are here, and I am happy, but so 
homesick to see you. Do you feel home- 
sick to see me? Let me know. I never 
thought the world was such a big, lonely 
place. Is it because you are not with 
me to hold my hand? I am going to 
be brave and bite my under lip, and as 
Biddy says 'Keep a stiff upper lip.' She 
says half the real truly battles in life 
have been won by folks keeping up their 
courage. I don't want to come home, 
but, mother, if you are passing this way, 
won't you stop in for a little while?" 
60 



CAMPING. 



"By that time I shall be cured of this 
complaint. Biddy says its called hime- 
vay. It makes you feel weepy all the 
time, and when night comes and the 
lights are out that is the time you feel 
it the worst. Mother, dear, don't pet 
little brother too much, because he will 
miss it like I do when he comes to 
Camp. I know he is only a little boy 
now, but if you had stopped petting me 
when I was three months old I should 
have got used to it by now and not miss 
you so much. 

"If I was not so lonely I could tell you 
about this lovely place, but I have such 
a lot to tell you of how I feel. Biddy 
says I might just as well make this a 
purely personal letter and get the whole 
thing out of my system. That, she said, 
would leave me the rest of the season 
to describe the other things. 

6i 



CAMPING. 



"When the lights are out and from 
my cot bed I look out of the tent I can 
see the sky. The moon is way up high, 
and lots of little stars are shining. Is it 
the same moon you can see from your 
window? I hope it is, because you can 
wish to see me when you look up and I 
will wish to see you. Then there are so 
many funny noises. The water seems 
to be creeping up the shore a little way, 
then falls back again. What makes it 
do that, mother? Then some little baby 
birds keep calling for their mother bird, 
*Peep, peep, peep,' just like that. Are 
they cold, do you think, or are they 
afraid of falling out of the tree? 

"Then all sorts of funny little insects 
keep flying through the tents. Two or 
three have little lights in their stomachs, 
because I saw them. They came and 
crawled over my netting and the light 
went out, then in again. Wouldn't it 
62 



CAMPING. 



be lovely if we could light our own way 
like that? 

"Give father a great, big hug and tell 
him his big boy is trying to be a man. 
Kiss little brother for me, and don't hold 
his hand any more or he will get so used 
to it. Biddy says if I want to sleep in 
her room I can, and then I won't be 
alone. Well, I will try it in the tent to- 
night, because if you are going to keep 
a brave front you have got to do it now. 
Good-bye, mother, darling. I kiss your 
photo every night. Write soon to your 
lonely little boy, JIMSEY." 



63 



CHAPTER VI. 

Afternoon Sports. 

After the study period is over the 
teams go up to the baseball field for a 
few games. What exciting times they 
do have ! The boys are divided, and for 
the sake of sport given colors. So in- 
stead of New York and Chicago it is the 
Red and the Blue. 

Thus early in the season they are only 
friendly games. It is only later in the 
season, when the trophy and cups are to 
be fought for, that they play with all 
their heart and soul. 

Now it is fun, fast and furious, to see 
which side is the strongest. Those who 
are not playing sit around, cheering or 
jeering as the case may be. It is all 
good, healthy sport, and again when the 
65 



CAMPING. 



bugle blows for swimming they are 
ready. 

What a rush for towels. The water 
is a little cooler this afternoon than this 
morning, but when one has exercised so 
vigorously it seems just right. 

Courage comes to the timid. They 
strike out into deeper water, find that 
it is friendly to them, and begin to do 
fancy strokes. 

The good swimmers have started a 
race with other experts. They mean to 
swim to the island opposite without any 
stopover, and are watched by an admir- 
ing crowd of youngsters. 

Care is taken that no boy goes beyond 
his depth unless he is a good swimmer. 
Instructors, in boats, constantly patrol 
the course, watching every move the 
boys make. 

66 



CAMPING. 



Well do I remember a funny incident 
that happened to a visitor last summer. 
He was a grown man, who said he had 
been swimming in the Bay of Fundy. 
As a starter he went in where the little 
shavers go, and, mark you, in about four 
feet of water, he went down. One of 
the faculty, who was watching the boys, 
saw him disappear. He jumped over- 
board with his cigar still in his mouth, 
dived under, brought him up, climbed 
back into his boat, and calmly went on 
smoking, leaving the Bay of Fundy hero 
to wade out. 

Some of the boys prefer a short swim, 
then a row; others just spend the entire 
time on the chutes, sliding down, either 
head first or feet first, diving, splashing 
and climbing back to the float, to do it 
all over again, looking like a lot of 
Greek gods in their scanty swimming 
trunks. 

67 



CAMPING. 



How careful one is in the city about 
covering up the body quickly for fear of 
taking cold! Out here the greatest 
pleasure is after the swim to be in the 
air and let the sun and wind dry and 
toughen one. No chill, no cold, just a 
pleasant glow. Any boy who does this 
day after day cannot take a cold if he 
tried to all winter. He is immune from 
the nasty colds that beset one in this 
changeable climate. 

Is it any wonder that the boys love 
to be in Camp, where they can strip and 
get close to Nature? 

I have often wondered what Heaven 
is like, and think it must at least have 
most beautiful rivers, and flowing 
streams, where one can bathe. 

That is my idea of what Paradise 
ought to be. Of course, there could be 
a whole lot of things up there that we 
68 



CAMPING. 



have wanted so badly on this earth and 
could not get, yet for me, the blessed 
privilege of bathing and swimming in 
waters pure is celestial. 

Maybe the Lord in His goodness took 
a little bit out of Heaven and planted it 
in the State of Maine. For where will 
you go, in this country, outside of that 
State, and find such a harmonious blend- 
ing of climate, temperature, water, land, 
sky and sea as we find there? 

But while I am rhapsodizing on the 
beauties of this State, let me not forget 
that time flies, and again the bugle 
sounds the call, "All out." 

This time the boys are willing to dress 
quietly, and spend the next hour resting 
up after the many duties and pleasures 
of the day. 

There is only a short period between 
the time we leave the water and the call 
69 



CAMPING. 



for supper. When the first call sounds 
every boy jumps up without a second 
invitation from the faculty to get into 
line. 

The signal is again given. The line 
turns right about face, marches to the 
stirring music of fife and drum, keeping 
time and forming one of the pleasantest 
sights we have to show to our visitors. 



S^ 



70 



CHAPTER VII. 

Evening Games. 

After supper sometimes the porch is 
cleared for a friendly boxing match or 
wrestling bout. The boys are chosen 
who in size and strength are pretty well 
matched. 

There is a well-padded mat, and if 
the wrestlers stand up first they are 
stripped. The referee reads the rules to 
them. They are cautioned against any 
foul or losing their tempers, and then, 
at the signal, turned loose. 

Do they wrestle? Do they tussle? 
Do they struggle with might and main 
to put one another down? You try to 
find out whether they are wrestling ac- 
cording to Graeco-Roman methods or 
catch-as-catch-can, and decide it must 
73 



CAMPING. 



be a mixture of both. After a spirited 
round time is called. Each of them 
goes to his corner to be fanned in a 
strictly professional way by his seconds. 

After one minute's rest they are at it 
again hammer and tongs, give and take, 
like two old-timers, all over the mat, 
first one, then the other having the ad- 
vantage. They begin to show signs of 
being winded, so the referee blows his 
whistle, and again they repair to their 
respective corners. 

After another minute's rest they stand 
forth for the final round. In this you 
see some mighty pretty holds. Were 
they stronger men probably they would 
be throwing each other over their shoul- 
ders, but, being boys, they can't do that. 
The last round is declared a draw, and 
as each won one of the other rounds, 
there is a happy shaking of hands as 
they go back to their friends. 
74 



CAMPING. 



The next bout being between larger 
boys, is more interesting. Here we see 
two splendid types of young manhood. 
They stand on the mat measuring each 
other with their eyes, planning just 
where to take hold, when the whistle 
blows to begin. 

The referee reads the rules to them, 
lets them clearly understand that he 
wants no nonsense. "Go ahead," he 
says, "play the game fair and never mind 
who wins.'' 

They take each other's hand, the whis- 
tle blows and the fun is on. This is 
genuine, dyed-in-the-wool sport, this is, 
and all the boys are yelling their heads 
off for their favorite. 

"Go it, old Socks!" "Give it to him, 
Chesty!" "Say, what did you let him 
get away with that for?" These and 
many more such exclamations are heard 
on all sides. 

75 



CAMPING. 



How easy it is for one to sit on the 
fence and criticise the other fellow, to 
tell him just what to do and how to do 
it! But what a different proposition it 
looks like when you try it yourself? 

The first round is finished and the 
boys are sitting back almost as tired as 
the wrestlers. They are being taken 
care of by the men appointed for that 
task. As soon as they are rested, they 
stand up, for all the world like a pair of 
young bucks in the springtime, who are 
eager to lock antlers and so long as they 
conquer the other fellow, don't care how 
much damage is done to them. 

The second round is called ; both boys 
rush in, each eager to be at the other. 
This is a most spirited and enjoyable 
affair. It is first one then the other, un- 
til one is dizzy watching them. Such 
beautiful holds! such daring! such a 
muscular exhibition, that the boys fairly 
76 



CAMPING. 



go wild, and when this bout is declared 
a draw, one cannot hear himself think 
for the racket. 

The third and last round is got over 
in short time. One of the chaps, watch- 
ing his chance, puts the other down and 
of course when his shoulders touch it is 
all over. 

Now for the boxing ! We thought we 
had tasted the cup of happiness to the 
last drop when the wrestling was on, but 
no, we had not. There was the sweetest 
drop yet to be quaffed, and we quaffed 
it alright, alright, that merry evening. 

As usual, the very smallest boys were 
picked out for the first bout; light 
weight gloves strapped on, the mat re- 
moved, the youngsters told what they 
were not to do and then turned loose. 

They put up a manly little exhibition 
and at the end of the first round it was 
77 



CAMPING. 



only by a hairbreadth that it wasn't 
called a draw. 

In the second round they went at it a 
little mite more furiously, and the prize 
ring rules had to be read to them by the 
Referee. They themselves did not 
know whether they were fighting with 
Queensbury rules or plain Johnson tac- 
tics. Just having the time of their lives, 
it was nip and tuck with them, all 
around the ring ; so much so, that when 
the whistle blew the round was declared 
a draw and the little chaps being slight- 
ly winded, it was decided to let them off 
the third round. 

The next two to step up for the pleas- 
ure of boxing were larger boys. 

These were well matched in every re- 
spect, both as to size, muscle and grit. 
We knew they would make good. They 
were both anxious to please their 
78 



CAMPING. 



friends, and apart from that were chums. 
Could two bosom friends come together 
and try to get the best of each other? 
That was the thought uppermost in 
every one's mind. Well, they did, fought 
like little men, a square, game fight, 
each bound to win to show there was no 
queer business; but there were only two 
rounds fought. Then as each had won 
one, the boxing bout was ended, to the 
satisfaction of audience and performers. 

But we have other ways of amusing 
ourselves beside the two I have just 
mentioned. 

The boys who love chess will find 
partners to play with, and can sit con- 
tented, making one and a half moves 
during the entire evening, if it so please 
them to deliberate like that. 

The checker fiends can play checkers 
to their heart's content, jumping his men 
79 



CAMPING. 



and crowning a man king without half 
the fuss the usual crowning of kings 
calls for. 

He just sticks one checker on the top 
of another checker, when be has got to 
the top row, looks his opponent in the 
eye, and says "King," then begins to 
waltz backward and forward up and 
down, sweeping all the poor little men 
he finds in his way into the discard. He 
seems to forget the time when he was 
only a little man himself. How like live 
men that is! While some will be con- 
siderate of those they have left behind 
them in the race for fame and fortune, 
others will step over them or push them 
out of their way. 

That old time game of dominoes must 
not be forgotten. How many weary 
hours it has beguiled away ! New games 
may come and new games will go, when 
we are tired of them, but our pleasant 
80 



CAMPING. 



little oblong friends from blank blank to 
double six will always find a welcome 
here. 

Then Lotto. Why, I am anything 
but a spring chicken, yet Lotto was an 
old game when I was young. What a 
hurry and flurry to cover with bits of 
glass the numbers as quickly as they 
were called, and what a joyful yell when 
you were out first ! 

On warm nights the boys sit out of 
doors on the Campus. Some one starts 
up a college song and the fun begins. 
All the old time and all the new songs. 
Among the voices a young tenor is 
heard; he leads, all the rest joining in 
the chorus. 

Such a medley of sounds — the boy 

who can sing and is willing, the boy who 

can't sing and wants to; never mind, 

when one is young everything goes ; it is 

8i 



CAMPING. 



only when one grows old that one be- 
comes hypercritical. 

The night birds cease their songs, so 
entranced are they at the human warb- 
ling. The only feathered night prowler 
who will not keep quiet is the owl, who 
persists in joining in the chorus, his part 
being a question. Who? Who? and then 
flying quickly away. 

These are all innocent little amuse- 
ments to while away the time until 
"quarters" sound. 

We have other pleasures of a different 
nature, but those I will leave for another 
chapter. 

"Another evening gone!" you say. 
"Why, I have done hardly anything at 
all, and meant to do so much." It is 
that way every evening. We plan to do 
all sorts of things, but what with games, 
82 



CAMPING. 



songs, feats of strength, spinning of 
yarns, the time goes all too quickly. 

The instructors walk about telling 
their charges to get a move on. Every- 
body goes to his tent to undress quick- 
ly, plan for another day's fun and frolic ; 
then the bugler blows "Taps" and once 
more we wrap our covers around us, ly- 
ing down to peaceful slumber. "So long, 
Ned." "So long, Joe." "Good night, 
fellows." 



83 



CHAPTER VIII. 

Camping Trips. 

One would imagine that being at 
Camp was enough for the average boy, 
but it is not always so. After the first 
novelty has worn off they want to go 
around seeing other points of interest. 
Therefore, the weekly Camping trips are 
planned for them. 

We take one day each week, plan 
some place for each group of boys, who, 
in charge of their instructor, go out 
either for a tramping trip or by boat. 

One group, for instance, plan to take 
boats and provisions, row up stream for 
several miles, make their camp on some 
island, cook their meals, rest up, swim, 
enjoy themselves by exploring the is- 
land, returning in time for supper. 

85 



CAMPING. 



The next group plan a v/alking trip; 
that is much harder on them than the 
trip by water. They must carry their 
own supplies, consisting of all kinds of 
food, potatoes, bread, meat, eggs, cof- 
fee, sugar, milk, matches, paper, fruit, 
besides a cup for each boy, a frying pan, 
coffee pot and pail for water. 

Here you see the way boys act more 
than on any other trip. The unselfish 
chap will cheerfully fill his pockets with 
raw potatoes, try and roll a can of toma- 
toes, a pound of butter and half dozen 
eggs altogether, in his rubber coat; put 
the matches in his tin cup and stagger 
away. What does it matter if the can 
of tomatoes does object to being smear- 
ed with the butter or the eggs protest at 
the undue pressure that is put upon 
them? 

When some one yells at him that a 
streak of yellow is running down his left 
86 



CAMPING. 



leg he retorts with, "I don't care if it is. 
Lots of fellows have streaks of yellow, 
but they don't want to show it." 

We clean him up, show him how to 
pack hard substances together, and the 
advantage of putting frail objects by 
themselves; also that butter is apt to 
melt if stored away inside one's blouse. 
That crowd is started on its way quite 
happy, although the lazy boy is grum- 
bling at having to carry the coffee-pot 
and frying-pan, while the little chap is 
leaving a trail of potatoes behind him. 

Then there is the lazy lot who don't 
care to walk, and don't want to row a 
boat. What do they want? 

They will take their share of grub and 
go up to the ball field. Mind you, they 
demand some of everything, particular- 
ly the food that is easy of preparation. 
The one and only idea that seems to per- 
colate through their brains is to get a 
87 



CAMPING. 



whole lot of food ; to make as little effort 
as possible; to help themselves; to fuss 
over everything; to be on the verge of 
starting a half dozen times, only to come 
back again with some new demand, just 
like people who decide to take short 
trips, they know not where, just to get 
away. 

For the rest of the day you may be 
sure that whenever you look up towards 
the baseball field you will see one or an- 
other of that special party about to come 
down to the house for more supplies, or 
just to see what is going on. 

How much happier they would have 
been, had they gone with the crowd! 
Nine times out of ten if you let a boy 
have his way, he is not satisfied in the 
end, and then is ready to put the blame 
on the country, the lake, the faculty, the 
dog, but not himself. 
88 



CAMPING. 



There was another lot of boys who 
were always under the impression that 
the stay-at-homes were going to have so 
much better time, so much better food, 
something better than the rest of the 
crowd, the sort of chaps that are a lit- 
tle afraid of missing a trick. 

Their special stunt was to ask the 
doctor to look at their ears or throat, 
complain of an all-gone feeling in the 
pit of the stomach, a slightly dizzy feel- 
ing, toothache or cramps. 

When a boy really makes up his mind 
to stay home there is no limit to his in- 
genuity in thinking up some plausible 
excuse. It would take a Philadelphia 
lawyer to get the best of him. 

The only way to take care of those 

poor little, sick, helpless chaps is to have 

the cook prepare the plainest kind of 

fare for them. Leave them beautifully 

89 



CAMPING. 



alone and the day will drag along on 
leaden wings. Long before the rest of 
the boys return they will be heartily 
tired of playing sick, and the next camp- 
ing trip that is planned will be among 
the first lot of boys to want to go on a 
long jaunt. 

There is heaps of fun in cooking 
your own dinner. What does it matter 
if the chicken is scorched on the outside 
while raw in the middle? The potatoes 
with crisp skins but underdone in the 
centre? Corn just warmed through? 
Coffee hot if muddy? Paper plates? 
Butter mixed with pepper? Salt mixed 
with sugar? Water and milk blending 
beautifully together? Bread and pie in 
close embrace? Pickles and jam ex- 
changing flavors? As one good little 
boy said: "What did it matter? Even 
if you separated them ever so carefully, 
they were bound to mix up in your 
90 



CAMPING. 



Stomach; so if they were mixed up 
beforehand it saved time and trouble 
afterwards." 

You couldn't serve such a meal as the 
above indoors. It wouldn't taste right,- 
and it would not look right. It needs 
the open air, with a background of green 
forest; a gentle breeze blowing the 
smoke in one's eyes as you watch the 
fish frying; the cool water at your feet 
inviting you to jump in, to cool your 
fevered brow and wash some of the 
smudge off yourself at the same time. 
To say nothing of a crowd of hungry 
boys who have left their manners and 
fussy notions at home! Here they can 
get along without a waiter standing at 
the back of their chair, without an anx- 
ious mother coaxing them to eat the 
tenderloin, so long as they can see their 
full share coming to them, they are 
happy. 

91 



CAMPING. 



I know lots of boys who at home are 
waited upon hand and foot. Yet these 
same congenial spirits can work like 
Trojans when out for a day's sport, can 
build dandy fireplaces with no better 
material than sand wet with water and 
bound with cobble stones. 

The same boys can cook a meal fit for 
a king. I don't mean the King of the 
Cannibal Islands, but a real ruler, be- 
cause from what I have read the canni- 
bals are not so very particular. Any- 
thing that comes their way, so long as 
it will make a large, juicy meal, will do. 
They don't care whether the meal is 
composed of a real good, young mis- 
sionary or an old tough trader. They 
would even take a party of elderly spin- 
sters and cook them for quite a while, 
adding some extra seasoning. 

But these boys I have in mind can 
cook fish, chicken, potatoes and coffee 
92 



CAMPING. 



in a way to make you thankful you are 
living, both before and after the meal. 

After the meal is over the question of 
washing up comes before the board. 
Most boys would prefer to throw the 
whole business in the lake, but, having 
pledged ourselves to see that they were 
returned promptly to the kitchen, we 
cannot allow that. 

As usual, there are always one or two 
who are more willing than the rest. 
They start in to scrape the debris to- 
gether, put water on the fire to get hot, 
and in many ways show that there was 
lost to mankind a good girl when that 
boy was created. 

No matter where one travels. Nature 
is charming in her virgin freshness. 
Then look at the difference as soon as 
human beings step in. The ground is 
torn up, the flowers trampled underfoot, 
93 



CAMPING. 



trees chopped down, empty cans left ly- 
ing around, on every side upset, and un- 
tidiness ! Wouldn't it be nice if we just 
tried to leave the woods and shore as 
nearly like we found it, not an eyesore, 
but a pleasure to go back to again? 



94 



CHAPTER IX. 

Odds and Ends, Including Prayers. 

When the days begin to grow hotter 
and longer most people plan to leave the 
City. Whether they go to the seashore 
or to the mountains, to the lake district 
or some quiet village, they carefully (or 
so it seems to me) put away their re- 
ligion along with their winter clothes. 

You will find people who are regular 
attendants at their respective churches 
all winter long staying away from 
church, Sunday after Sunday, through- 
out the summer. 

It makes not the slightest difference 
whether Jew or Gentile, Catholic or Sci- 
entist, they all stay away more or less 
during the summer, and even at Camp, 
when the call to prayers is sounded, 
they come in a half-hearted way. 
97 



CAMPING. 



Can one really get along for months 
without religion? Have they soaked 
up, absorbed, into their systems enough 
during the cold weather to tide them 
over the warm? Can the average 
church-goer, no matter what church he 
goes to, store away in his heart and 
brain enough religion to last, or must 
he keep on returning to the Fountain- 
head to be renewed and refreshed? 

As I said, the boys straggled in to lis- 
ten to a true man of God, but some of 
them came because they had promised 
to do so, a few just because they really 
wanted to be there, and the rest because 
it is human nature to follow a leader. 

What excuses we always have ready 
on hand to show why we have not gone 
to the House of God! It is too hot, it 
is too cold, it is dusty, it is wet, no 
clothes fit to wear, the Sunday dinner 
to cook, too lazy to get up, all these and 
98 



CAMPING. 



a lot more, just because the House of 
God stands with doors wide open ! 

You can walk in without the trouble 
of going to the ticket office for a reserved 
seat. You don't have to stand in line, 
glad to buy a standing-room-only ticket. 
If you desire music, it is there in its 
purest form for you to listen to. Do 
you care for singing? Then there you 
can hear anthems, hymns and oratorios 
as they never are sung anywhere else. 

It needs the sacred silence of the 
House of God, the subdued coloring, the 
general air of peace and holiness to 
bring these things fully to your heart, 
yet you have to be coaxed to go there. 

The House of God has always seemed 
to me like the house of a very dear 
friend. Of course, being so far away, 
we don't think we must pay our respects 
in person to the Lord. If we have a 
99 V 



CAMPING. 



dear friend (even though full of faults) 
we keep in touch with him, call upon 
him, let him know in many ways that 
we are his very dear friend. Then why 
not go to the House of God for the same 
purpose, with the same kind feeling in 
our heart? 

Then the boys sat in silence while the 
man of God prayed for them, for the 
good of their souls, that they might 
grow up doing at all times, whether in 
company or alone, the right thing in the 
sight of the Lord, blessed them, sent 
them on their way, with purer thoughts 
to help them out of the many pitfalls 
that beset the feet of youth. 

After services are ended we allow the 
boys to play games. Of what use 
would it be to compel them to sit quiet 
all day reading books that they did not 
care for? Besides, a forced religion 
isn't worth powder to blow it up. 

lOO 



CAMPING. 



Let us hope that when fall comes and 
they take their religion (they have so 
gently packed away in camphor) out it 
will not show any signs of decay, no 
moths or other evidences of dissolution, 
but a bright, loving light to lead their 
footsteps to His Throne. 

Sunday at Camp is much like any 
other day, excepting that the laundry is 
given out and the outgoing wash col- 
lected. 

The boys form into line under the di- 
rection of the faculty, are sent down in 
companies of ten according to their 
numbers, to the laundry room, where 
they receive the clean wash, consisting 
of personal clothes, besides sheets, tow- 
els and pillow slips, take them up to 
their tents, put them in their trunks, ex- 
cepting what they put into immediate 
use. 

lOI 



CAMPING. 



After breakfast they gather up all the 
soiled wash, make out a duplicate list, 
and have them ready when the man calls 
at each tent for them. Quite a clever 
system that works out all right. 

Sunday afternoon is spent on the 
water or some game is started up. The 
usual swimming is indulged in, and by 
supper time everybody is ready to peck 
a bit of food, even if they have dined 
later and had a most bountiful repast. 

In the evening the fun begins. Gen- 
erally on Sunday the Literary Society 
has an open meeting. Everything goes, 
from a banjo solo to an imitation fight 
between two noted prize-fighters. 

The little boys recite, the big ones 
give monologues, our celebrated orches- 
tra renders stirring selections, and the 
entire Camp joins in the chorus. 

102 



CAMPING. 



The instructors cheerfully help out. 
It matters not what you ask them to do ! 
Sing a solo? Why, yes; he will be de- 
lighted. Sing a duet? Pleased to oblige 
such an appreciative audience. Join in 
a quartette? Why, nothing would give 
him greater happiness. 

It makes no difference how silly they 
have to act. They just go ahead. Any- 
thing to please the boys and keep them 
in good spirits. 

Were Hammerstein ever to come out 
to Camp on a Sunday evening he would 
find more real talent on our little stage 
than he has at his own vaudeville house. 

The evening ends very happily, all 
voting it a bully good show. They give 
three cheers for the performers, and with 
a final cheer for good measure, "Quar- 
ters" are sounded. 

103 



CAMPING. 



It is a happy crowd that slowly wends 
its way to the tents, and many a laugh 
is heard as they go over the evening's 
performance. 

The faculty clear the place, leaving 
everything in apple-pie order for the 
morrow. "Taps" are sounded by the 
bugler and another happy day is done. 

As we grow older it may take more to 
please us, but I feel confident that some 
of these days will be remembered long 
after we have grown up. Life would, 
indeed, be for many of us a very sad 
thing if we had not childhood's happy 
days to look back on. 



104 






^\a 







CHAPTER X. 
Football. 

Why there should be such excitement 
about a game of football I have never 
been able to find out. When all is said 
and done you can hardly see the players. 
They are bunched together most of the 
time. They stand bent over, looking 
for all the world as though they were 
about to play leapfrog. 

Then some under-sized little shrimp 
of a fellow begins to yell 4-1 1-44, 7-28- 
7-1 1, and all manner of numbers; he 
grows fearfully excited over the stupid- 
ity of his team ; they evidently don't un- 
derstand the signals. 

In a perfect frenzy of passion and de- 
spair he raises his voice and almost 
weeps. Sometimes he says things that 
are not in the polite letter writer; not 
107 



CAMPING. 



the things that a gentle youth would 
send in a letter to his best girl, but the 
rest of the team don't seem to mind it at 
all. The other side is doing the same. 
They have also a man whose special mis- 
sion in life seems to be howling with all 
his might while madly springing up and 
down. 

Again they form and await the whis- 
tle of the umpire. Every man acts as 
though the eyes of the entire sporting 
world were upon him. 

Gee! If they can only get the start; 
what they won't do to the other side! 
The whistle blows, one yard gained after 
a terrific struggle; form again, more 
numbers yelled in a voice hoarse from 
much shouting, then they are off again! 
A splendid kick causing the ball to form 
a perfect curve as it sails through the 
air, one great big chap fairly springs up 
several feet to catch it as it comes down ; 
io8 



CAMPING. 



he runs, and his side, when the whistle 
blows, have gained five yards. I stand 
idly watching them, wishing that the 
game was more familiar to me. It must 
be a good game, after all is said and 
done, or people would not go wild about 
it. 

The first half is over. Now the um- 
pire is quite a busy man. Let us trust 
he has taken out a traveling life insur- 
ance policy, for he certainly needs it as 
he wanders up and down. Each side is 
filing its protests. If he is to believe 
them they have each been guilty of ev- 
erything but piracy on the high seas. 

Several boys have been knocked out 
for a minute. They are being attended 
to by the surgeon and staff — a liberal 
sprinkling of water besides massage sets 
them up again quite eager to join the 
fray. 

109 



CAMPING. 



The coach calls his crowd around him, 
scolds some, praises others, warns all to 
go carefully. The little chap, whose spe- 
cial mission in life seems to be to cuss 
and yell numbers as fast as he can get 
them out, is on hand; watches his op- 
portunity to remind them that when he 
says 8-7-6-5-4 he does not mean 93-2-15; 
begs them, for sweet love's sake, to go 
in and win. 

The referee blows the whistle. Both 
sides form. They toss up for the first 
choice, and off they go. 

In spite of one's desire to sit quietly 
and let them chew each other up like a 
pack of Kilkenny cats, until nothing but 
the tails are left, you find yourself yell- 
ing, jumping, running along with the 
rest of the crowd. 

"A goal ! a goal !" they shriek, and all 
because one boy has thrown the ball 
over. Phew! what excitement! what 
no 



CAMPING. 



joy for the winners! sympathy for the 
losers! a happy blending of praise and 
blame ! 

No matter where you go it is just as 
bad; that is, in any English-speaking 
country. 

This fall I saw, while in Lincoln, Eng- 
land, a tremendous crowd coming out 
of the railroad station. They were push- 
ing and jostling each other. Some were 
packed six deep in cabs, riding in butch- 
ers' carts, on bicycles, on tricycles. I 
had almost said icicles, because they 
were going any way so long as they got 
there. My curiosity at last got the best 
of me, and I stopped a good-natured 
looking man. "My friend," I said, 
"what are you all in such a hurry for? 
Is there a hanging going on, or has Eng- 
land declared herself a Republic?" 

He looked at me with a pitiful smile, 
as though to pity my ignorance. 
Ill 



CAMPING. 



"No, Madam," he said, "it is a game 
of football, and they kick off at 2.30," 
and off he ran. 

On this particular day the Reds won, 
to the everlasting sorrow of the Blues. 

Boys are nice chaps, anyhow. Just 
as soon as the game is over there is not 
one bit of hard feeling between victor 
and vanquished. They shake hands, say 
better luck next time and are ready for 
the next game. 

If we could carry that spirit with us 
out into the world, what a lot of good 
it would do us, as well as the other poor 
soul who has lost in the game of life. At 
least let us try and give the other chap 
a fair show, a run for his money, so to 
say. Then if we do come out ahead it 
won't matter so much. A kind word, 
a loving thought, means a lot to the 
chap who has lost, while to us it affords 
112 



CAMPING. 



some satisfaction to have won modestly, 
not to fly on the top of the fence, flap 
our wings and crow like the victorious 
cock. 



"J 



CHAPTER XI. 

Boating. 

Boating has always been a much- 
sought-after pastime. The boat, even 
as little children, we were very fond of 
was one called Noah's Ark. Ours was 
filled with cute little animals, and trees, 
and houses, that gave us great pleasure 
to arrange, always taking care to make 
them walk two by two, each couple of 
bears or elephants or cats, or any other 
animal, never on any account to put a 
rat with a cat or a tiger with a goat, as 
we were taught that they had to pair off 
the right way. 

Noah's ark was a good old boat. From 
what I can make out it must have been 
somewhat like a present-day houseboat, 
while the lower half was like a cattle 
carrier. 

115 



CAMPING. 



Jolly time Friend Noah must have 
had to preserve order. Of course, the 
fear of being thrown overboard prob- 
ably kept them behaving fairly well. 
Still it must have been a dreary time for 
all, not like the boating at Camp. 

The Vikings with their war vessels 
manned by dozens of slaves, some of 
them below decks where they had to sit 
chained together, plying the long sweeps 
for dear life — death for them if they 
failed — death for them at the end al- 
ways. Poor, poor fellows! I never 
read about them but my heart aches. 

What thousands of human beings 
have been sacrificed to bring our civi- 
lization up to its present humane stand- 
ard ! That was another kind of boating 
for you. 

We can go on and on, down to the 
present time, and find in every period 
something to interest, to shock, to awa- 
ii6 



CAMPING. 



ken our truest S5niipathy for those who 
have gone before, but as this is not a 
history of boats and boatmen, just an 
account of our outings, I will not digress 
any longer. 

In the beginning of the season we 
don't care what kind of a boat we go out 
in so long as it is a boat, but in a few 
days we begin to notice the great dif- 
ference between a flat-bottomed boat 
and a dory, between a canoe-shaped boat 
and one with bow and stern. The ad- 
vantages of each and every one are 
quickly mastered, until at the end of the 
first week we have pinned our faith to 
one particular kind, to the exclusion of 
all others. Then our usual selfishness 
begins to show. We charter that boat, 
and woe be to the fellow who takes it. 

A boat that you are used to is like a 
friend. You seem to get right in mood 
with it, can tell to a second when to hu- 
117 



CAMPING. 



mor it, and in return the boat answers to 
every move you make. If you like a 
boat and have been out in it, no matter 
whether the wind comes up suddenly or 
a storm threatens, you feel perfectly 
safe. You can take one oar, stand up at 
one end and make her go like an obedi- 
ent steed, ride the waves, turn any way 
you wish, fool around as long as you 
like, then make a home run up to the 
dock with flying colors. 

You can do that with a canoe-shaped 
boat, because, if you are turned around 
by the current, all you have to do is to 
turn yourself, and either end of the boat 
is the stern, as you wish. But so much 
for a rowboat. 

Have you ever tried going out in one 

of those dinky little sailboats? That is 

Simon-pure sport for you. When the 

boat is loaded with her living freight she 

ii8 



CAMPING. 



is probably about six inches above the 
water line. Any little sudden gust 
causes her to keel 'way over. Between 
the jolly captain trying to get the bene- 
fit of every puff of wind and the nervous 
passengers you have the time of your 
life. All other boating fades away com- 
pared to being in a sailboat with just 
enough breeze to send her along while 
causing her to keel over at the slightest 
move. You lie on your stomach on the 
bottom, letting any bilge water slopping 
around loose soak into your chest. Of 
course, you have a swimming suit on. 
That is advisable, in case you went over- 
board or the boat turned turtle, a cus- 
tom our little boat showed a tendency 
to do on the slightest provocation. 

She wasn't the kind of boat that you 

would have wanted to take a nervous 

mother out in or any one, in fact, that 

was not well able to swim ; but with con* 

119 



CAMPING. 



genial companions, who could take care 
of themselves, there was more fun to be 
got out of that little boat than any in 
Camp. 

Then there were the motor boats; just 
made for the rapid consumption of oil. 
Their motto was : "Maximum of oil with 
minimum of speed," made out of defer- 
ence to the Standard Oil Company. No 
man not extremely wealthy could afford 
to own one of them. Between drinking 
oil by the gallon and quarrelling with 
their igniter they were in dry dock for 
repairs most of the season. 

The real pets of the Camp were the 
four-oared barges. You felt yourself 
some boatman when you went out in 
one of them. With a nifty coxswain in 
the stern to keep time for you, plenty of 
room to make your stroke, one of the 
best fellows as stroke oar, there was not 
1 20 



CAMPING. 



a pleasanter sensation going than to go 
for a good, long row. 

Sometimes you caught a crab, that 
caused some little delay, while you were 
spoken to in a real fatherly way by the 
coxswain. Then again you persisted 
in making your time to suit yourself 
without any regard to orders. On one 
side the oars pulled a much stronger 
stroke than the other side, constantly 
skewing the boat, in spite of the best 
efforts of our tiller ropes. About the 
only time you showed any kind of form 
was on the homestretch. Then, play- 
ing to the gallery, you put your best 
efforts into every move of your body, 
going by the Camp to the landing stage 
in a manner to make even the Oxford 
and Cambridge crews look up and take 
notice. 

All that was only practice. The real 
thing that counted was when the races 

121 



CAMPING. 



were planned. Then the boys began to 
work, to get up early in the morning for 
special coaching trips, to train in every 
way, to leave off all sweets; and when 
a boy does that, you may know he is in 
dead earnest, until as the day drew 
near all they could talk, think, eat and 
sleep was boat talk. 

It is a bad thing to wager on a boat 
race. Yet what a fascination there is in 
boosting your own side up. You feel 
sure they will win. Haven't you with 
heart, soul and mind urged them on for 
weeks? How can they lose? 

You get out and cheer them along, 
ready to fight with tongue or fists for 
the glory of your colors. You know it 
is against Camp rules to wager; yet in 
the excitement of the moment you prom- 
ise to forgive debts if you lose and in 
every way show your faith in your side. 

122 



CAMPING. 



They are ready to start. With many 
a cheery word for them you wish them 
Godspeed, at the same time feeling a per- 
fect hatred, for the time being, for your 
opponents. Gee! if you could only go 
along with them to cheer them on the 
course ! 

They have started, rowing easily to 
the starting point. Oh ! will they never 
get there? And yet you have warned 
them about taking it easy to the start- 
ing mark. At last they are there, are 
turning round; the pistol is fired and 
they are off. "Come on, come on !" you 
yell, long before they can hear you. They 
seem to be working with might and 
main, but what is that? The other team 
seems to be getting ahead. No; it can- 
not be. It should not be. In your wild 
excitement you fall off the rock you are 
standing on, pulling into the water a 
couple of onlookers with you. What 
does a wetting amount to, anyway? 
123 



CAMPING. 



You dare not look when you get back 
on the rock again, yet, like some hor- 
rible monster that fascinates you, you 
turn around, to see your beloved Blues a 
boat's length behind. If praying would 
help them, they can know that you 
prayed ; if weeping for them would have 
been of any use to save the day, you had 
done that, too; what was left but the 
deepest despair. 

The Reds won, and my whole nature 
felt steeped in the deepest blue. 

The villain came up to me to claim his 
wager, with a grin all over his face, mak- 
ing you think of a huge Cheshire cat. 

So ended the boat race I had set my 
heart upon. 

"But what is the use of repining. 

Where there's a will there's a way; 
To-morrow our team may be winning, 
Although your team beat us to-day." 

—Old Ballad. 
124 



CHAPTER XII. 

Final Contests — Track Work. 

After training for weeks one begins 
to look for some satisfactory results. It 
is about this time that the boys who 
have made a special study of track work, 
under the guidance of a clever instruct- 
or, can begin to feel enough confidence 
in his work to warrant his entering for 
the final contests. 

Oftentimes the boy with the shortest 
legs has the keenest desire to enter for 
the standing broad jump. Is it his fault 
if his legs have not kept pace with his 
will and brain? You really feel the tru- 
est sympathy for him because he always 
falls an inch or two short. Again he 
tries, but no go. How can he help it? 
His spirit is willing, but his legs too 
short. 

127 



CAMPING. 



The big boy with legs so long that he 
looks like an animated compass as he 
strides along is the next to try. 

Now you have pinned your faith to 
him. If he, with those legs, cannot go 
in and wrest the honors, then who can? 
He makes a brave enough start, but 
jumps so wildly that he falls, scattering 
the dirt all over without gaining enough 
inches to speak of. 

Next to step forward is a spare-built 
medium sized boy, about the frying size, 
with not one ounce of flesh to spare, fine 
bones, slim little ankles, broad chest, 
good eye for measurement and plenty of 
strength to carry him over. His follow- 
ers have great belief in him and frankly 
tell him they depend upon his work to 
gain their side so many extra points. 

Sometimes if we endow a man with aU 
kinds of virtues, he will really try and 
live up to them, if only to show us that 
128 



CAMPING. 



he can make good. Again he will make 
good because he wants to do so, both for 
his own sake and ours. This boy was 
of that type, loved to do the best in his 
power to oblige his friends and also be- 
cause it pleased himself. 

He made good, as we all knew he 
would, winning for his side far more 
points than they deserved. 

The excitement grew so that it was 
necessary to appoint deputy sheriffs to 
keep the peace. 

All morning were the running, jump- 
ing, hurdle races, short sprints, long 
sprints, broad jumps, standing high, hop 
skip and jump, every jump known to 
mankind and a lot that are not known. 

The only jump that I did not see done 
was the one we all are very familiar with, 
viz., "Jumping to a conclusion," and 
the reason that was not practised was 
that there was no prize offered for it. 
i2g 



CAMPING. 



The next event on the schedule was 
junior running races. All of the little 
fellows who had ambition enough, com- 
bined with wind and muscle, were en- 
tered. It is one thing to think you can 
run a race, but quite another thing to 
keep on going after the first excitement 
is over. 

All you can think of as you run, run, 
run, is the beating of your heart, your 
breath growing shorter, a sharp pain 
running through the calves of your legs, 
a nasty stitch in your side, and then the 
worst and hardest sound of all, the 
breathing of the fellow behind you. You 
feel without looking back that he is gain- 
ing on you at every yard. 

"If you can only keep going," is your 
unspoken prayer, until you are around 
the next turn. "Go it, old boy," you 
hear them yell. You don't know wheth- 
er it is intended for you or for the man 
130 



CAMPING. 



behind you. Anyway it spurs you on. 
Why shouldn't you take that yell for 
encouragement for you? As you turn 
into the home stretch, the boys who are 
friendly to you run alongside on the 
infield cheering and pacing you right up 
to the wire. Oh! thank goodness, you 
have broken right through the line, to 
fall, happy though exhausted, into the 
arms of your friends. 

One race after another is run oif 
during the morning. It matters not 
whether it is a junior, intermediate or 
senior race; the same rules and regula- 
tions hold good, fair play, no crowding 
and handicaps where needed. Then at 
the signal every man to do the best he 
can, win if possible, never quit unless 
taken ill, run the race through, even 
though it is a losing one for you. 

In every race there can only be one 
winner, several who are placed, and the 

131 



CAMPING. 



rest are grouped under one head and 
called "also rans." 

Whether it is horses or men the same 
spirit prevails. The horse with grit will 
go ahead. Sometimes his shoes don't 
fit. His bridle is not properly adjusted, 
hurting his poor mouth fearfully and 
causing it to bleed. His harness is loose 
where it ought to be tight. Tight where 
it ought to be loose. The driver is far 
more of a brute than the beast he is 
driving, and yet you will see, in spite of 
all these drawbacks, that horse, with so 
much grit, such a game sport, that he 
will come in winning by a nose, though 
afterwards one can see him being led to 
his stable with drooping head and limp- 
ing feet. 

The same with a boy. If he has the 
pluck, grit, gameness, call it what you 
like, he will go ahead in spite of all ob- 
stacles; win if possible, come second if 
132 



CAMPING. 



that is the best he can do, and if he lose, 
why, then he will look the world in the 
face knowing he has done his level best. 

Separate Games. 
Throwing the discus is another manly 
sport that calls for splendid muscular 
action, accurate balancing, steady 
nerves, good eyes and quick action. 

This game, old as the hills, is still very 
popular. Its followers try to play it in 
both a scientific and artistic manner, 
taking poses that remind us of Greek 
gods. There is keen competition be- 
tween the contestants, and prizes are 
awarded the winners. 

Putting the Shot. 
This game might have been handed 
down from the time of David, who so 
cleverly put his shot that Goliath was 
killed, to the surprise and joy of his ene- 
mies. Like throwing the discus, it calls 
133 



CAMPING. 



for strength, speed and courage. It is 
a particularly good exercise for the arm 
and shoulder muscles, but being rather 
strenuous, is a game for the older boys, 
who enjoy it very much. Like all other 
games at Camp, prizes are awarded for 
the best record. 

Quoits. 
Still another of the good old games 
that is as popular on sea as on land. The 
only difference is that the rings are 
made of rope for sea use while of iron 
for those on shore. 

On board ship it looks quite easy to 
throw the ring over the stick, but what 
with the motion of the vessel and poor 
calculation, it more often rolls to one 
side than makes a ringer. 

On shore it is not so easy, either. The 

ground, from being pounded so often by 

the iron quoits, becomes powdery, the 

stake is harder to find as the player finds 

134 



CAMPING. 



out. One ringer, out of a dozen throws, 
would be called very fine playing. 

It is lots of sport; good to train the 
eye for measuring distances, the arms 
to curb their strength, just as the least 
little bit too much muscle sends the 
quoits 'way off, and last, teaches one to 
have infinite patience. 

Shuffle Board. 
Like quoits, we play this game at 
Camp as well as at sea. Compare our 
dandy big table at Camp with firm floor 
to stand on with the deck of a ship. You 
cannot begin to make the scores at sea 
that you can on land. With the best of 
intentions you send your board along, 
thinking it will send your opponents off 
while giving you an added score. Does 
it do that for you? Well, not always. 
Most of the time yours goes off or stays 
on the wrong square, deducting your 
score while adding to theirs. 

135 



CAMPING. 



On our table at Camp the chances are 
better for both sides. We play many a 
spirited game for fun during the season. 
When the final contests take place this 
indoor game, as well as any other one, 
has its turn. Sides are chosen, the los- 
ers dropping out while the winners play 
each other. When the contestants get 
down to two men the final game is 
played. As usual, the winner receives 
a prize. 

For the smaller fry the games of 
checkers, dominoes, etc., etc., offer a 
chance to even the littlest Camper to 
compete and win a prize. 

Most of the boys would engage in 
these pastimes for fun, even if there was 
not any reward offered, but the promise 
of some prize always stirs up the indo- 
lent and timid boy. 



136 



CHAPTER XIII. 

Visitors. 

After the boys are settled at Camp 
for a few weeks they begin to look for- 
ward to a visit from some of their folks. 
They plan what they are going to do 
and what points of interest they will 
take them to, and hope with all their 
heart, soul and mind that a large box of 
good things may be sent up for the tent. 

What does it matter if they are for- 
bidden to receive such articles? Either 
by begging, pleading or some other ex- 
cuse they let the Director know that this 
is their first offence. They will only eat 
a little at a time, and divide it with a lot 
of boys, thus lessening the danger of 
overeating, and getting the credit of be- 
ing generous at one and the same time. 
139 



CAMPING. 



Some parents take long trips them- 
selves while their children are with us. 
Other parents plan to come as a sur- 
prise. 

When they drive or auto in the first 
feeling that most mothers have is amaze- 
ment at the undressed condition of their 
offspring. As quickly as they can get 
out of carriage or automobile they has- 
ten to button up the shirt, if the boy has 
one on, or to plead with him to put one 
on if his is off. They feel the breezes 
blow and shiver at the thought of the 
boys sleeping in such open tents; advise 
that the tent fiaps be tightly closed at 
night for fear of the boys taking cold. 

They seem to think we are a har- 
dened, cruel crowd because we laugh at 
their fears. It is not one bit of use try- 
ing to convince mother because she 
won't be convinced. So we save our 
breath for father. Here we have some 
140 



CAMPING. 



ground upon which to sow our seed. 
We invite him to stay a day or two; 
"Peel off," we tell him, and "be a boy 
again. Go in swimming. Go out in a 
boat. Try a game of ball. Play a set 
of tennis. Do a little sprint around the 
running track. We can offer you a lot 
more sports if you will stay and visit 
us," we tell him. 

In the evenings we can play shuffle 
board, have some good music, some 
singing that will make the cats on the 
back fence green with envy; then last, 
but not least, we can have a camp-fire. 
Have you ever been out in the country 
and helped build a real camp-fire? 

After supper every one is pressed into 
service to help gather the wood. Little 
chaps stagger along under heavier loads 
than they can carry, dropping two 
pieces for every one they pick up, but 
never saying die. I just love those little 
gritty kids. 

141 



CAMPING. 



The bigger boys and instructors carry 
regular old trees, reminding one of an 
army of ants struggling along manfully 
to move their quarters. 

One or two capable men, who have 
the art of building bonfires down to a 
fine point, stay on the field to receive 
the wood, pile it up and start the fire 
going. 

That is the preliminary only. Are we 
going to have a corn roast? Then the 
juicy ears of corn, two for every boy, 
are brought up to the field. Plenty of 
good butter and salt in a large bowl is 
at hand. The boys, visitors and all, 
form in line, march past the table, where 
the supplies are heaped up, receive their 
portion, and hurry along. 

By this time the fire has died down to 

a bright red glow. The smoke and 

blazes have stopped, the embers being 

just right to cook the corn; it is stripped 

142 



CAMPING. 



of its silk, then the leaves are carefully 
put back in place and laid down where 
it will cook through without burning. 

Song, laughter and sport pass the 
time until a fragrant smell assures us 
that something is doing. Gee whiz! 
Strip the leaves off. Butter it gener- 
ously. Never mind if the butter does 
run down your arm. Close your eyes 
and sink your teeth into it. 

In polite homes they have corn hold- 
ers, and dainty little knives for splitting 
it open so that the butter can soak in, and 
all manner of helps to make corn eating 
a dainty pleasure. They can have them 
in their homes all they like, but out here, 
under this beautiful sky, dotted with 
stars like tiny lanterns to show us what 
to do, give me my ear of sweet corn and 
let me eat it this way. 

Sometimes we have a marshmallow 
roast, generally a treat from one of our 
143 



CAMPING. 



kind visitors, who may not have even 
stayed to enjoy it with us. 

After our fire is just right we serve 
out the marshmallows to the boys. This 
time they have a very sharp-pointed 
stick, on which they gently fasten one 
at a time, holding them close enough to 
the fire to roast them. They say they 
are delicious, and, judging from the fact 
that frequently they eat between them 
all, about 2,000 marshmallows, they 
must be very palatable. Personally, I 
cannot vouch for them, as, somehow or 
other, I don't like them, either cooked 
or raw, though my friends persist in 
treating me to them. 

Another treat is a clambake and water- 
melon feast. That we have on the shore. 
When packed in sea weed, all manner of 
good things are roasted, including the 
faces and hands of the good-natured 
helpers. 

144 



CAMPING. 



Sweet potatoes roasted this way are 
delicious, and chicken has an entirely 
different taste than that cooked in the 
oven. There is something for every 
kind of taste and appetite, and plenty to 
go around. 

The modest boy is helped to his share, 
the independent chap is allowed to help 
himself, while the greedy fellow is held 
back for fear he will overload and cap- 
size. At last even the boy who is hard to 
please declares he has had enough. So 
with a rousing cheer for the kind visitor 
whose guests we have been, the bugler 
sounds "Quarters," a welcome sound to 
us all. Sometimes the visitor asks if he 
can become a Camper for a few days or 
a week. He will gladly pay for the 
great privilege, for such it is, to be a boy 
again among boys. 

It is granted to him; not one extra 
for him, mind you. He must take what 
145 



CAMPING. 



the Campers have, the same fare, the 
same tents, the same beds. If he wishes 
to join us on these conditions, well and 
good. Then he can come in and wel- 
come. 

From a responsible man of business in 
the city, in one short night he turns 
Time back in his flight and becomes 
again a merry, happy boy, a boy with a 
capacity for enjoying the simple pleas- 
ures of Camp life more than any grow- 
ing boy can understand. 

Hasn't he seen both sides of the pic- 
ture? Doesn't he know that the plain, 
clean way of living we have out there is 
the only true way to exist? What kind 
of food can give him the satisfaction 
that this rough fare does? When, with 
appetite sharpened by sleeping in the 
open air, enough physical exercise to 
make his blood flow with renewed purity 
through his system, he sits at table, he 
146 



CAMPING. 



not idly wonders whether there will be 
anything worth eating, but only hopes 
there will be two helpings of everything. 
Like poor, little Oliver Twist, he asks 
for more. 

Such a Visitor will turn to and help 
the little chaps, v/ill go down to the 
beach with them, show them how to 
wash and take care of their clothes, go 
in the water with them, and take them 
out in the boats. He acts for all the 
world like a big, good-hearted brother. 

In return there isn't a Camper, from 
the Director down to the dog, that 
doesn't adore him, and will at every and 
any time do anything in his power to 
make his stay enjoyable. 

Our keenest regret is when the day 
comes for him to leave us. Not alone 
does he carry back to the city renewed 
health, strength and spirits, but the hap- 
piness of knowing that while he was 
147 



CAMPING. 



taking a vacation for himself he was 
endearing himself to every one at Camp. 

Of course, every visitor is not an an- 
gel in disguise. We could not expect 
that. Some come; keep to themselves, 
and depart, without having caused one 
ripple on our surface. Yet we are glad 
to see them, to do all we can for their 
comfort, and then to wish them God- 
speed at their going. 

A few come who are ripe with sugges- 
tions for the better way to run our af- 
fairs. If it makes them happier to sug- 
gest, let them go ahead. It won't hurt 
us any. When one is sure they are do- 
ing the right thing it matters little what 
other people think. We keep on doing 
the right. 



148 



CHAPTER XIV. 

Last Days. 

To some of the boys last days at 
Camp bring sadness. They are the ones 
who, having neither brother nor sister, 
begin to realize how lonely it will be at 
home compared to the bustle out here. 
They love their parents, are anxious to 
see them, glad to get back to their or- 
derly bedroom and to the daintily set 
table. All that kind of thing is good to 
look forward to, yet how lonesome it 
will be. Of course, they will meet at 
school and at each other's homes, but 
not be together all day and night like 
this. 

They plan to be at each other's houses 
as often as possible ; to never, never for- 
get each other, and be sure to share the 
same tent next season. 
151 



CAMPING. 



All the season long the untidy boy has 
opened his trunk, reached around any 
old way for anything he might need 
at that particular moment, found it, 
slammed the lid down without regard to 
hinges or lock. Day after day he has 
done this, never once looking at his list 
so carefully pasted on the inside of the 
cover. 

Anyway, what would be the use of 
looking at the list ; it will be time when 
he packs up to go home. Day after day 
you pick up quantities of clothing be- 
longing to boys who have thrown them 
around, remind them that they will be 
short when they compare their list and 
stock on hand. They don't care, and 
very often are saucy. So the time 
passes away until a couple of days before 
Camp breaks up. 

Now is the time for vain regrets. 
Where is that bathing towel that they 
152 



CAMPING. 



left lying around loose for weeks? What 
has become of those swimming trunks? 
Who has seen the mates of both these 
sneakers? These and fifty more ques- 
tions are asked of every one in sight. 

Sometimes you find some of your be- 
longings under the tent, some in the 
bath-house, one or two in the dark room 
used to keep out the light. Several arti- 
cles without labels you claim as your 
own, anything, everything, to help fill 
that trunk. 

Some articles cannot be put in, owing 
to wear and tear, especially tear. They 
have gone into the discard long ago. 
Then, again, some have been borrowed 
and never returned. The average Camp- 
er does not think that "he who goes a- 
borrowing 'goes a-sorrowing," and 
cheerfully asks for what he wants, let- 
ting the lender do the sorrowing at the 
end of the season. 

153 



CAMPING. 



The careful boy can pack his trunk, 
find almost all his clothes and bats, balls, 
Kodaks, etc., etc., can even close his 
trunk without the aid of the locksmith. 
There are more tidy than untidy boys, 
for which may we be truly thankful. 

Along about the time everybody is 
packing up the boys, who have brought 
along or bought while in Camp a felt 
hat, want to have all their friends write 
their names on it. Some of them are 
works of art, and one feels quite proud 
to put his name on, to be in company 
with so many celebrated signatures. 

Often have I wondered what they do 
with them when they get home. Sup- 
pose they hang them up on the walls of 
their bedrooms as trophies. 

After you have written on his hat, very 
often you write in some book for him. 
About half the Camp is writing on each 
154 



CAMPING. 



other's hats, pants or books. Every- 
where you go you will see boys armed 
with pens, making you think of the old 
saying about the pen being mightier 
than the sword. 

A general resting up for everybody is 
advocated after the final contests. That 
gives one a chance to relax and rest up 
before going home. 

Lessons are stopped; the hour being 
devoted to siesta instead. 

Boys who have all the season neglect- 
ed their letter-writing tasks begin to get 
very busy. You will be besieged by re- 
quests for paper, envelopes and stamps. 
They intend letting the family know 
they are coming. 

The boy who during the entire season 
has sent a blank piece of paper in his en- 
velope, by that means assuring them 
that no news is good news, now under- 

155 



CAMPING. 



takes to write a real letter to apprise 
them of his return. This so frightens 
the family that they send a despatch 
asking if all's well. 

The little boys are all very anxious to 
be met at the depot, also to remind the 
folks to have a good breakfast ready. 

Home-coming always seems sweeter 
if there is some one to meet us, but we 
cannot all have loving fathers, devoted 
mothers, affectionate aunts, sisters or 
cousins. So the boy who has no one to 
meet him is not left all alone, but is per- 
sonally seen to his home or train, as the 
case may be. 

Music and song, games and jollity 
pass the time every evening until a few 
nights before the end. Then our cele- 
brated artists give a show. 

Whatever we should do without some 
of our friends I cannot say. What cheer- 
156 



CAMPING. 



ful spirits they bring to bear! How 
willing they are to do any and every 
thing, from painting the scenery to 
painting their own faces! 

We can call upon them at any time 
for help, tell them "You must be a vil- 
lain, a hero, a lover, a drummer." No 
matter what we ask for, some of them 
are ready and willing. 

The show cannot fail, the critics who 
sit in front, and who are more to be 
dreaded than Alan Dale or Acton Davis, 
only spur us on to do the best that is in 
us. We have rehearsed over and over 
again until those who haven't clean for- 
got every word are letter perfect. 

Sometimes the villain will make a bet- 
ter hero. All right, we give him that 
role. Again the heroine would look bet- 
ter as the father. That is easily man- 
aged. Change clothes and you change 
sex at the same time. 
157 



CAMPING. 



Nothing daunts us. We would not 
enjoy the show half so much if all were 
smooth sailing. 

The night arrives at last to give it; 
you really would not think these were 
all city boys, who were used to every- 
thing from grand opera to vaudeville. 
So eager are they to help, to advise, to 
get the best seats, that tremendous ex- 
citement prevails all over Camp. 

It is rather hard to dress a group of 
actors and actresses when your principal 
stock in trade consists of two rolls of 
crepe paper, some puffs of artificial hair 
and a few ribbons. Makes one think of 
"a rag and a bone and a hank of hair.'' 

We have the rags and the hank of 
hair, and the boys furnish the bones. 
We manage with the aid of tinfoil, crepe 
paper and odds and ends of our per- 
sonal wardrobe to make quite a decent 
showing. 

158 



CAMPING. 



The show goes off without any hitch. 
Everybody is good-natured; the critics 
assure us it was very good, and we clean 
up the mess, very happy to have been of 
service once more. 

With a vote of thanks to all the will- 
ing workers who helped us, the bo3^s 
once more are glad to obey the bugler 
when he sounds "Quarters." 

They undress quickly, not at all mind- 
ing going to bed with faces covered with 
grease, paint or charcoal. Youth does 
not bother about its complexion. By 
morning most of it is on the pillow slip, 
and soap and water will clean up the 
rest. 

The theatrical effects are all carefully 
packed away, to do duty for another sea- 
son. The lamps are put out, the curtain 
rolled up, scenery stored and finis writ- 
ten on the season's offerings. 
159 



CAMPING. 



Lots of work. Lots of worry. Little 
to do with. Plenty of people to please, 
and yet! What pleasure in pleasing 
others! How happy if only they were 
satisfied! Could I have my choice, in 
all sincerity, give me the chance to 
please the children and I could die 
happy. 

The bugler is blowing "Taps." The 
lights are going out. Once more a 
sweet good-night to you. 



i6o 



CHAPTER XV. 

Awarding Prizes. 

Every season it is just the same. As 
the last night draws near there is great 
excitement among all the boys. Those 
who have earned medals, cups or prizes 
try to appear unconcerned, while the rest 
of the Campers handle, fondle and crit- 
icise the gifts. 

We ourselves, who expect none, and 
wouldn't know what to do with a medal 
if one was given to us, are just as eager 
and joyful as the smallest Camper there. 

When all is ready, what a hush I You 
can actually hear yourself think as the 
Director stands up. He looks around 
with happy smile at the roomful of wait- 
ing boys. Begins to read from a list in 
his hand the name of some one fortunate 
163 



CAMPING. 



fellow, who steps forward to receive his 
medal or cup, as the case may be. Ev- 
erybody must see it, read the inscription, 
look at the engraving, look at the case 
to hold it, before returning it to the win- 
ner and owner. 

It is the same with each and every 
boy, whether the medal is of gold, sil- 
ver or bronze, whether he received it for 
swimming or rowing, for running or 
jumping, for feats of strength, like put- 
ting the shot or throwing the discus. 
What matter if it was for football or 
baseball, tennis or diving? It is a med- 
al, given for merit, and as such appreci- 
ated by both winner and friends. 

The most popular boy is awarded. 
The best all-around Camper is med- 
alled. There is hardly an act of courage 
or endurance that is passed by without 
some recognition. Such an uproar as 
greets each new hero ! 
164 



CAMPING. 



While we enjoy it with them ever so 
much, yet we are glad when at last they 
are all awarded, leaving us the pleasure 
of hearing the different members of the 
faculty called upon. The bashful man 
hardly gets a chance. He is guyed un- 
til he sits down. Indeed, there seems to 
be an understanding between all the 
boys not to allow any of the faculty to 
speak. It is one huge laugh from start 
to finish. 

Time after time another man is called 
upon to rise and express his opinions, or, 
if he wishes, thank the boys for being 
so good to him during the season. It's 
no go. He might just as well sit down 
and save his breath to cool his porridge. 

The rest of the evening is given up to 
yelling, shouting, singing and having a 
generally jolly time. 

Boys who are very wise have taken 
the precaution to lock all their belong- 
165 



CAMPING. 



ings up. Fear of burglars? No! A 
general rough house is looked for on this 
last night. For fun they will dump each 
other's trunks or beds. 

No one's property is sacred. You can 
carefully lock your door, but if there is 
a crevice large enough to let a spider in 
they will crawl through that, turn your 
room upside down, not leaving one arti- 
cle in its place, then crawl out again, 
leaving both door and window locked. 
How could they have gotten in? No 
one can tell. 

We have serious thoughts of bidding 
for a turret from some battleship and 
using that as a room. Nothing lighter 
would be of any use. It is long after the 
usual hour for "Taps" to sound, and we 
wonder why. The bugler is there, but 
no bugle is to be found. Some boy has 
hidden it. So on this, our last night in 
Camp we have to depend upon the in- 
i66 



CAMPING. 



»tructors, who collect their boys, march 
them to their tents and stay there, keep- 
ing them company while they undress. 

Most of them are really too tired to 
try any games on the other tents, and 
without any of the trouble we had an- 
ticipated they are very soon ready for 
the signal. As "Taps" cannot be blown 
the whistle in the hands of the Director 
is made to take its place. 

One shrill blast and the lights go out. 
"Good-night fellows, lots of fun going 
kome to-morrow." 



167 



CHAPTER XVI. 

Leaving Camp. 

Bright and early they are all up and 
dressed, only as anxious to be off as 
they were to get here the beginning of 
the season. 

Long before there is any possibility 
of the wagons coming for them they 
stand, looking up the road, like sister 
Anne in the story of Bluebeard. 

Some of them are really ready. Most 
of them are not. It is always at the 
last moment that one finds most impor- 
tant articles that ought to have been 
snugly stowed away in the bottom of 
the trunks, lying under the bed. 

One boy is stuffing all his soiled 
clothes in his rubber boots. Not such 
a bad idea. You cannot make rubber 
169 



CAMPING. 



boots go into a tiny little place, so may 
as well fill them up. 

Another is tearing everything out of 
his trunk to repack it, having found that 
there is no room on top for his blankets. 
Still another solves his problem by 
throwing away everything he thinks he 
won't need for the winter. Whether 
that suits his parents as well as it does 
him history sayeth not. 

How the average mother is able to 
put such quantities of clothes and shoes 
and sporting goods in that same trunk 
before it left home and have room to 
spare has always been a mystery to him. 
Maybe if the mothers were to let the 
boy himself do his packing, while they 
looked on, it would teach the boy a good 
practical lesson, and at the end of the 
season prevent many a heartache. 

By the time breakfast is over the wag- 
ons begin to arrive. Those who are 
170 



CAMPING. 



ready make a wild dash for the best- 
looking rig. "But not so quick, my 
friend. You may as well climb out and 
wait for your instructors, who are going 
along with you. No need of crowding. 
There is plenty of room for all." 

Are they really so anxious to be o£f, 
or is it just the last bit of Camp frolic? 
At the same time, from previous experi- 
ence, my advice is to take it easy up to 
a certain point. On this, our last day 
in Camp don't let us neglect one thing 
that we ought to do for the good of the 
Camp, and yet while we are putting 
everything in place, locking up all the 
articles that ought to be locked, at the 
same time you help half a hundred boys 
to get their belongings together. 

Tie one of the little boy's shoe laces, 
lend another one a collar button, give a 
safety pin to another, find a lost hat for 
a third, put a bandage on a fourth, close 

171 



CAMPING. 



up bags, open trunks, strap suit cases, 
fetch, carry and help anywhere, any one, 
anybody. Of course, you are going to 
do all this. In your inmost heart you 
hope you will be able to take one fare- 
well swim, and still have time to dress 
like a civilized being, but nothing is cer- 
tain here. 

Just as you decide to put the drugs 
away and empty the bottles out so they 
won't freeze during the winter, one of 
the boys comes into the hospital to have 
a cut dressed. "How on the face of the 
earth did you do that? And on the last 
day, too. Pity you could not remember 
to cut yourself during office hours." His 
excuse is that he found his pocket knife 
that he thought he had lost, in his other 
pants. Was so glad to see it that he 
just opened it to see if it would cut. It 
did. 

172 



CAMPING. 



We wash the wound, tie it up and 
shoo him out. Are we ever going to get 
away? 

We had always divided the season in- 
to three periods, calling them as they 
affected us, Mad, Glad and Sad. 

Mad the first part, until everything 
got into working order. Glad the sec- 
ond part, because things were going 
along all right, and Sad the last part, be- 
cause we hated to leave. 

But to-day we have reversed it, and 
the Sad is first; the Mad is last. 

As I said a little while ago, my advice 
up to a certain point is to take it easy, 
but in order to do so you had better care- 
fully follow this recipe : 

Take one horse, one wagon, one set 

of harness and one whip. You can, if 

you wish, separate them, or, if you have 

room, leave them together. Watch your 

173 



CAMPING. 



opportunity and hide them deep in the 
woods, where they can keep cool and 
quiet. When you are ready to use them 
step very carefully up to the horse, 
grasp the bridle and, jumping into the 
wagon, with the whip in your hand, 
drive off. 

You might invite one or two of your 
friends to go along, but be sure to leave 
a seat for yourself. 

We have often heard of people sprint- 
ing for a wager, and we have been an 
eye-witness of people who sprinted for a 
train, because they stayed back too long. 
Therefore, by following the above fa- 
mous recipe, you will find it digestible 
and not hard to prepare. 

Now, having left Camp at last, we 

have another m.ost beautiful ride 

through shady roads, where the foliage 

is turning all colors, where Nature with 

174 



CAMPING. 



a most lavish paint brush is tinting the 
maples, turning the apples into balls of 
gold and red, causing the golden rod to 
look like a golden border alongside the 
road. What a riot of color! Wild 
astors, gentian, foxgloves, everlasting 
flowers shading from yellow to darkest 
brown ! 

Summer still here, but autumn creep- 
ing in a little further each day ! 

Every minute of that drive is pleasure. 
We laugh. We sing. We joke with 
each other. What good friends we have 
all become! And yet how sad to think 
that in a few short hours we may part, 
perhaps never to meet again. Is it any 
wonder that I, who have had many part- 
ings, should feel sad? Is life only to be 
made up of partings ? Or are we to look 
forward to happy meetings? 

Who knows? Anyway, nothing is to 
be gained by spoiling our last few hours 
175 



CAMPING. 



together. So again let us be merry and 
bright, adopting for our motto, "Suffi- 
cient unto the day is the evil thereof." 

The farmers come to the doors of the 
farm-houses to bid us good-bye and 
Godspeed. The same motherly cows 
stand looking at us with their serious 
eyes. The same frisky calves run along 
on the inside of the fence, a little older, 
a little wiser, but still recognizing kin- 
dred spirits among us, as when we trav- 
elled this road a few short weeks ago. 

How quickly the time has flown! It 
is only impetuous youth who desires the 
time to fly. In later years he dreads to 
see it pass so quickly. If it is a long 
lane that never has a turning, then ours 
has been quite a long one. At last we 
come in sight of the depot. 

What a merry crowd! It is quite an 
event to see us come and go, almost as 
good as the circus, but much cheaper. 
176 



CAMPING. 



Any of the Campers who have any 
change left are busily trying to get rid 
of it. They don't mean to be caught 
with any money on them when they get 
home if they can help it. The druggist, 
the fruit store, the candy shop, all get 
their share, and when the train pulls in, 
the boys can happily state that they have 
only car fare left. 

The ride on the train affords plenty 
of enjoyment to old and young. The 
passengers who are not Campers are 
very much amused at the antics of those 
that are. 

When they were going to Camp, they 
spent the hours before they got there 
by saying all they were going to do; 
now on leaving, they entertain each 
other by retailing all the fun they have 
had while there. 

We get back to Portland in plenty of 
time for supper. 

177 



CAMPING. 



Everything looks clean, dainty and 
appetizing. The boys tuck in as though 
they never knew when they were going 
to get another square feed. 

At last Nature, good old soul that she 
is, cried, "Stop or take the conse- 
quences," and most of them did. One or 
two who thought they had room for 
just a little more stowed away enough 
to give them a nice little stomach-ache, 
which ought to have taught them better. 

After supper we went aboard the 
train, and settled ourselves comfortably 
until it was time to start. 

Our berths were assigned to us and, 
as on our outward trip, the little shav- 
ers were put together at one end of the 
car in charge of instructors and Biddy. 

Soon after we were all aboard, the 
train drew out of the station. For some 
little time, boys visited one another in 
178 



CAMPING. 



the different cars. Then the long-lost 
bugle was discovered. The bugler was 
summoned and ordered to blow "Quar- 
ters." Every man Jack of them at once 
obeyed, found out where he was to sleep 
and in less than one hour, when Taps 
were sounded, all were in bed. 

For the last time the bugler stood in 
turn in every car sounding Taps, the 
porter ready to put the lights out. In 
that narrow space it sounded very loud, 
very clear and most beautiful. 

"Good night, fellows; see you in the 
morning. Don't forget to come up to 
the house tomorrow night." 

"Here, you, stop taking all the bed 
clothes." "Oh, you chaps in that upper 
berth, don't throw cracker crumbs 
around." 

"Please, sir, can we have the window 
opened?" "Please, sir, can we have the 
179 



CAMPING. 



window closed?" Laughter, happiness 
and teasing until the last one is asleep ! 

Throughout the long night nothing is 
heard but the click of the rails as the 
train drives on, the brakeman passing 
through with his green and red lanterns, 
the faithful instructors seeing that all 
are covered, our beloved Director him- 
self looking out for the welfare of his 
flock. 

Biddy herself in her favorite corner. 
But like an old mother hen who has 
carefully brought up the families of sev- 
eral other hens, now that her chickens 
kre able to scratch for themselves, and 
when nightfall comes have wings strong 
enough to fly to the top of the roost, 
she feels she can stretch her legs, then 
one wing, then the other, cramped by 
long hovering, and with a sigh of com- 
plete satisfaction close her eyes in sleep, 
secure in the thought that "He who 

i8o 



CAMPING. 



slumbers not nor sleeps" will watch and 
protect her flock. 

We still have to get dressed on the 
train, and that is something to look for- 
ward to. 

Before daylight some of the boys are 
up and about. It is of no use trying to 
sleep any more, so we may as well tidy 
ourselves up, wash our faces, if there 
is any water, brush each other off, and 
try and look just a bit tidy when we get 
to the station. 

Parents and friends will be so happy 
to see us that they will forgive us, no 
matter how wild and woolly we look. 

To see such a company of tanned and 
healthy boys is well worth coming to 
the depot and waiting for belated trains. 

As we hand over the last boy to his 
folks, what a lot of satisfaction it af- 
fords us to know and feel we have play- 
i8i 



CAMPING. 



ed the game fair, and given every one a 
square deal! 

Once more we hear the Camp calls, 
sounding strange here in the city. Good 
byes are exchanged, thanks expressed, 
hopes for another season, and at last 
they have all been taken away from us. 

Vl^e can go our way in peace, tracing, 
with happy finger, the word that ends 
our season's labor. 



(Finis) 



182 



MAY 20 t«n 



[(-} 



One copy del. to Cat. Div. 
WAV 20 ]91\ 



